Yama's Festival
by Eaglefire
Summary: Alanna faced a corrupt mage seeking the throne. Kel defended her people against a neocromancer who stole the souls of children. Now, as she tries for her knighthood, Deryne of Queenscove is pulled into a deadly whirlwind of the past and present.
1. Prologue

_**Yama's Festival**_

_**Excerpt: **_

_Dolls in the shadows… books open, huge hands flipping through the pages… Swords clashing… a tomb… a red-haired sorcerer shouting…a symbol burnt on the floor-_

_Flashing purple eyes, black cat-_

_Screams, laughter- _

_And burning. Fire. Flames. Laughter until the body turned to ash…. But the soul was alive; the soul remembered...  
_

"Fools…"_A small boy with black hair and sapphire eyes- There was a shadow, a darkness, seeping through the air-_

_**AN: There is a new girl in the page's wing and, unfortunately, her life isn't any easier than her idols', Alanna the Lioness and Keladry, Protector of the Small, even with relatives and a rather odd sort of Gift at her side. **_

_**INCLUDES Kel's son, Neal's daughter, Rikash (Numair and Daine's son), Sir Myles, Irani (the seer from POTS), Owen of Jesslaw's son, and many others!**_

_**This really is the accompaniment to the Jaguar Goddess. I promise those clamoring for a sequel, that it does fit in. However, anyone else can read it and understand perfectly, too. ;D**__**  
**_

* * *

_Prologue_

Blayce the Gallan's heavy breathing was clearly audible as he fumbled through the parchment before him in the dimly light room. Like a rodent, his dirty fingernails scurried across the papers, never staying still. Even if he was reading a note, his fingers trembled with some sort of nervous energy. With anxiety. He needed to find it-!

One candle illuminated the room, a small white melting piece of wax perched on the desk. With his clumsy, hasty movements, Blayce nearly knocked it over. Swiftly, he grasped it, steadying it for a moment before letting go cautiously.

Then he laughed, nervously.

It would not have been a good thing, had that light fallen and lit the papers on fire. No, indeed, it would not have been!

Sweat slipping down his temple, he licked his chapped lips and pulled out a sheath of papers. As he bit his lip, his eyes- flickering from side to side- caught sight of a dark figure.

He yelped, whipping around. Then he sighed as he saw only his lackey in the shadows. He relaxed slowly.

"Stenmun!" he complained in a thin whine. "I was working. You cannot just-" The giant Scanran ignored him; stepping forwards, he eyed the parchment shrewdly.

"That is the information?" he asked in a low, flat, clipped voice. Blayce nodded, turning back around to roll the papers up. Then he sealed the makeshift scroll with hot wax from the single candle, and handed it to Stenmun.

"Careful," he ordered imperiously. "It is not dry yet." The blond, bearded man gingerly wrapped his enormous, callused hand around it.

"This goes south, then?" he asked. Blayce nodded, then handed a small package to the giant, too.

"As fast as possible."

"I shall leave after I hang the head of that fool maid outside," the man answered.

"But swiftly- hurry, Stenmun-" But- as Stenmun turned to leave, Blayce called him back. "Wait!" The warrior obeyed, freezing in his place.

Blayce's whisper was clearly heard, echoing throughout the huge, empty workroom.

"This must be done with the upmost secrecy. Understand me, Stenmun? Not even King Maggur-" The mage fell silent, listening to his words as they faded. "Tell no one."

_Tell no one…. Tell no one…._

After Stenum nodded and left with the packet and scroll, the words continued in Blayce's mind, long after they stopped bouncing about the cold, stone walls of the forlorn fortress.

à

"No!" Blayce sat up, gasping. He looked about the room frantically, his dream already dulling in his mind.

He had fallen asleep in his workroom, imprisoning the last child soul he had taken within the huge, metal monsters.

But that was not important now. He sensed that soon, he would forget the warning burning in his mind entirely.

The mages had taught him, long ago, about such dreams, in the City of the Gods. A prophecy.

Wiping sleep from his eyes, Blayce stumbled out of the room, calling for a sentry. It was only a moment before a young man jogged up to his master. He stopped and saluted.

"Never mind that!" the mage blustered. "Send for Stenmun!" The guard looked at his lord oddly. He had never seen his lord so out of sorts. Though he often had a shifty look about him- as if he feared the ghosts of the children he slaughtered- Blayce had never shown actual fear... The sentry pushed the thought away idly; it was none of his business. Lord Blayce must have had a missive from the king. _That_ was enough to send anyone scampering.

"He ought to be only a few days away, milord," he said in a heavy northern brogue. "Bringing those refugees." Blayce scowled.

"Not good enough," he said firmly. "He must be sent for- swiftly! I must speak with him." He glared at the confused man, who had yet to blink.

"Go and send someone for him! Now! Before I turn you into a- a frog!" Surely the man knew he had no such powers-

-but all the same, the soldier saluted smartly and dashed off, leaving Blayce to blearily wander back into the room and slump over on his deck, rubbing his face.

He had made a mistake, a terrible mistake. The things he had seen-

If the plan he had set into motion succeeded-

In fact, even if it did not work as well as he had hoped-

If his man in Tortall was not stopped-

If Blayce's orders, given from his own hand, could not be taken back-

Only Stenmun could fix this now.

And even the cold-hearted, insane Blayce felt a cold pit of fear roll around in his stomach, paralyzing his mind and body, at the thought of what would happen otherwise.

à

A few days later, both Blayce and Stenmun were dead, slain by Keladry of Mindelan. They had been boxed in; there had been no chance of escape.

And, now, as Blayce departed into the Black God's Realm for the harsh judgment awaiting, he could only give thanks that he would not have to live and face what his failure had set in motion-

Now, no mortal power could stop the turning tide of destruction that loomed before all the Known Lands.

* * *

AN: Eee. Guess that's not good, hmm?

... I mean the predicament laid before us. Hopefully the writing bit was good.

Please review!

BTW, if you have not read the Jaguar Goddess and think you might like this story, go and read that, too. The JG and this story happen at the same time, so there aren't any spoilers or anything if you read them out of order, but I have a trilogy planned; the Jaguar Goddess, this one, and then one more. The final one is a sequel to the first two.


	2. Chapter 1: The Third Girl

And here I am, a day before I said I would post! Since I got it back from my lovely beta, I decided to put it up immediately, since Friday is a tricky day...

Thanks to everyone who reviewed- **Heiress of Lohaust**, **rogue2009**, **PrincessSolaria**, **abyssgirl**, **fairydust000**, **sarralynsalmalin**, and **Time and Fate**. I hope you'll continue to give me feedback! Any typos- though thanks to my beta **KyrieofAccender**, there shouldn't be any/many!- or just thoughts on the writing or even ramblings are good! Goodness knows, I ramble enough myself! ;D

* * *

_Chapter One- The Third Girl _

_Corus, Tortall_

_September 10__th__ 476 H.E. _

"I understand you have an unusual Gift, Page Deryne?" Lips dry, Deryne, daughter of Lord Nealan of Queenscove and Lady Yukimi, formerly of the Yamani Isles, nodded. Lord Padraig haMinch, the training master of the pages in the royal palace, pursed his thin lips disapprovingly. A muscle in the man's fine jaw tensed, an easy observation to make since the training master had a lean, olive-skinned face that seemed to enhance every expression he made to an extreme that would have seemed comic in anyone less stern. Seeing that he expected her to answer, she swallowed heavily.

"I do, milord," she said in a silken, soft voice. Her words seemed to dance in the air delicately as they left her mouth, like wind chimes in a calm zephyr. "I have received training with Master Salmalin, and he informed me that he told you that he wished for me to continue working with him."

"You are not here to be a mage," haMinch said tartly, and Deryne felt a twinge of annoyance. She wished her father was there to comment sarcastically, but Lord Nealan had been busy; ever since he had taken over his father's job as Palace Healer, he had been too occupied, even to assist his daughter with a conservative training master the day she began her life as a page.

"But Master Salmalin teaches that a knight must refine all of his or _her _weapons, magical or otherwise," she retorted, managing to say them gently enough so as not to be reprimanded for impertinence. His rather large brown eyes grave, the training master glared at her suspiciously, but Deryne kept her face determinedly blank.

"Simply because there are now two successful lady knights out in the world," he began, the words obviously distasteful to him. "-does not mean that the training rigors are any less demanding, nor shall it make your way easier. You are the third girl- the second known one- to come to train for knighthood, Queenscove." Then he frowned, momentarily diverted by her fief's name. "You have an uncle older than your father, correct?"

"Yes," Deryne replied simply. "My immediate family has rooms in Queenscove fief, but we reside in the palace, as my grandfather did. After all, the head Healer could not live away from the palace," she continued, lips quirking upwards in an almost impercievable smirk. It gave her an odd sort of pleasure to remind such stuffy conservatives of her esteemed- however liberal- male relatives. haMinch glared at her suspiciously, as if unsure if she was being pert. Deryne kept her face composed, though fleeting insults ran through her quick mind.

_He looks like an owl_, she reflected, studying his rather large, round, brown eyes.

"As you have grown up here, then, there is little need for a sponsor. It is up to you, if you wish to have one."

She did want one. Her second cousin's son, Cadel, was a third year. She had not seem him in about a year. Cadel of Broakhale- son of Domitian of Broakhale, formerly of Masbolle, second-in-command of the King's Own- had been too busy for her. He had friends among the pages, and their instructors kept them busy, leaving Deryne alone to spend long hours often with her mother. Not that Lady Yuki was not fun to be with, but Deryne chaffed for younger companions. She had a few, but those she was closest to were kept hopping-

But now she would see him, everyday-

"No boy shall be allowed to be alone in your rooms with the door shut, just as you are not allowed in any boy's room with the door shut. Any infringement, and you will be dismissed instantly-" Deryne nearly snorted; she was not there for that! She was only eleven! But she kept her expression smooth. Lord haMinch scowled. "Any questions?"

"No, milord," she replied demurely.

"There are three other first years already here," the man told her abruptly. "And two others have come today. They are waiting in the page's hall. I trust you have moved your belongings into your new chambers?" Deryne nodded, and haMinch's frown deepened. "Say 'yes, my lord.' "

"Yes, my lord. Sorry, my lord," she chanted, a glint of humor entering her icy blue eyes and escaping just as suddenly as it had come. The training master watched her suspiciously for a moment, studying her for any trace of mockery. Then he rose, sighing.

"Come, then." He swept past her, opening the door of his study abruptly before striding out. Deryne trotted obediently after him, careful to stay close, but she studiously avoided the ends of his robes, which trailed dangerously close to her feet. When she tried to give his lordship's attire more space, he would turn to scold her for lagging behind.

_Maybe he _wants_ me to dirty that nice hem, _she thought idly, grinning maniacally at the thought. She banished her smirk quickly before haMinch could look over his shoulder again. Better for him to think her a well-mannered noble than the ruffian her mother teasingly accused her of being.

They passed the page's classrooms, which were empty now, before breakfast. One of these rooms doubled as a room for Master Numair Salmalin to teach his apprentices; Deryne had often frequented it, long before the thought of becoming a page had ever occurred to her. Several of her Gifted friends would be there now….

Indeed, when Deryne peeked in through the open door, she saw Master Numair and several of his students, including his son, Rikash, who glanced up as the training master and Deryne walked by.

For a short moment, their eyes locked. Deryne grinned at Rikash and winked. His amber eyes darkened and he frowned at her. In response, Deryne made a face, disregarding the warning in her mind that cautioned her against doing anything so improper near Lord haMinch, even if she _was _behind him. She was rewarded by the faintest, dry smile as Rikash disappeared from sight.

_So serious, _she reflected, swiftly changing her facial expressions as haMinch turned again, as if to make certain she was still there, though the glum look on his face told her that he was disappointed that she had not disappeared in a puff of smoke yet.

Like Cadel, Rikash Salmalin had been a friend almost since birth. The trio's mischievous exploits- which included putting mice in the debutantes' chambers and live crickets and the occasional frog from the pond in their drawers and bathwater- had strengthened their comradeship over the years. And the very rare dangers of the palace- such as the time Rikash had accidentally set the bed curtains of one particularly nasty young woman aflame with his Gift when they had locked themselves in the room- had brought them even closer.

Alas, Rikash- who was older than both she and Cadel- had grown up far quicker than Deryne would have liked, and soon all the devious plots he had dreamed up and coerced the others into doing were childish and boring. After a year so so, Cadel had followed his suit, and Deryne was forced to do the same.

After all, such pranks lost most of their fun when one did them alone.

Still, Deryne saw Rikash often, for she had taken lessons from his father as soon as it was clear she had a powerful Gift. Indeed, her power surpassed her father's extraordinary healing magic, though she doubted she would ever achieve his control. And it matched Rikash's fiery strength.

The two of them had taken private lessons from Numair for years….

And yet, Rikash still acted stiff and arrogant in front of others. Deryne had to shake her head at his folly. He was absurdly proud, for someone who had a mother who didn't care squat for propriety.

Sarra- Rikash's older sister- had told Deryne that Numair Salmalin had been vain when he had been younger-

But still friendly. Rikash simply rubbed people the wrong way; Deryne could see his surliness every time he was introduced to new people. It was silly of him, to act so when he could be so amiable-

Then her thoughts left her as haMinch shoved the doors to the pages' wings forward sharply, stepping into the room with the ominous air of a man who knew precisely what he was doing, as well as what everyone within ought to be doing.

The doors heavily smacked into the walls as they walked a few paces forward. Seeing several wide-eyed boys staring in their direction, Deryne froze, suddenly daunted. She did not like being the center of the attention of a group of strange boys-

"It's the girl!" she heard, feeling slightly mortified.

Yes, she was the girl, the third to call this place her home in the last century...

_And proud of it, _she told herself fiercely, but somehow the words lacked conviction in her mind. Swiftly, she tried to distract herself, only becoming more and more keenly aware of her awkward position... She would survive; after all, this- compared to what was in store once she actually started training- was simple. But the thought that things would only get harder did not comfort her at the moment-

One lad- a boy with straw-colored hair that stuck out every which way- gawked at her, then whispered something to his older companion, who had curly, muddy brown locks that fell across his forehead, almost hiding his eyes.

Deryne felt a heated blush rising in her cheeks. _Silly! _she berated herself. _Silly to let this- of all things!- trouble you! _But the thought only made her flushed face darken. She looked in the opposite direction, only to meet the cynically amused gaze of a boy who stood apart from most of the others, his arms crossed. She hastily broke contact with his blue eyes, though she berated herself for it even as she did.

"Deryne!" Gratefully, the girl looked up to see a grinning Cadel waving. Hazel eyes glittering, he strolled up to the pair that had been murmuring to each other. The boy with the mussed hair looked excited; the other, his eyes rolling around to survey the rest of the room, looked bored. The training master frowned at Cadel, who bowed lowly to the imposing man. "Good morning, my lord," he said, clear voice respectful. Comfortable in her spot behind haMinch, Deryne cocked an eyebrow cynically at her cousin, who nearly choked.

"Hmm," was all that the man said as Deryne became more and more aware of the twenty or so boys gathering in a semi-circle that stretched across the corridor. They eyed her warily, as if not sure what to make of her. Or perhaps they were staring at the training master. From what Deryne knew of the training master, she would do the same, if she were one of them-

-which she was. The thought sounded odd in her mind, though she had known for months that she would try for her knighthood. Somehow, this made it final, though- had she tried- Deryne would not have been able to back out even a month ago. Not without risking raised eyebrows and ridicule.

"Where's Tayt?" haMinch demanded sharply, voice ringing through the hall. "Not leaving after less than a week, is he? He can't take the rigors of Tortallan knight training?"

"He's gone to Lord Neal, my lord," a voice called from the crowd. Deryne's eyes swiftly found the speaker; an auburn-haired boy who looked about Cadel's age stood with his hands behind his back, feet spread slightly apart.

_A soldier's pose, _she thought idly. The King's Own stood like that, when her uncle Dom or Lord Raoul spoke to them….

"Who gave him permission?" haMinch barked, scowling. "Foreigners! Can't teach them anything!"

"Lord Neal himself, my lord," the boy answered, ignoring the man's exclamations. Deryne admired his mettle; he was brave enough to speak out in defense of the boy, and smart enough not to bait Lord haMinch. "He- he fell down, sir." Deryne's eyebrows rose. Surely he could think of a better excuse for fighting? Her father had told her that was the one he and Aunt Kel had used when _they _were pages!

"I see," the lord said, voice skeptical. Then he cleared his throat, and Deryne stiffened as he turned back to her. "Page Deryne of Queenscove. Do you wish for a sponsor?" Momentarily tongue-tied with surprise, she hesitated, eyes traveling to Cadel.

"Yes." She was shocked- and slightly infuriated- when her voice came out as a croak. She cleared her throat, then spoke louder as a few snickers reached her ears. "Yes, my lord." Her voice was still scratchy, but it did the job intended. The training master turned back to the crowd of pages.

"And who shall sponsor Page Deryne?" he demanded. Cadel began to step forwards. "Not you, Broakhale." Deryne's eyes flew wide open in surprise. She was not the only one to be shocked; Cadel stared at the man with an odd expression on his face.

"My lord," Cadel began, voice sharp with surprise. "With all due respect, I claim right to sponsorship through kinship to Page Deryne-"

"I know," haMinch said severely. "However, I do not wish for any young- woman- to rely on her established connections to-"

"But any lad does!" the blond next to Cadel piped up, before quailing underneath haMinch's gaze.

"Perhaps they should not," haMinch said frostily before turning away from Cadel, who still looked at his training master with scarcely contained indignation. But he could not hide from Deryne; she has always been able to read him like a book. She could almost hear his thoughts.

_What could he possibly be thinking? The old coot- _

"Anyone?" The page's wing was silent, and Deryne felt a twinge of rage flicker in the back of her mind. Her fists clenched; no man should treat her like that! Not even a conservative, not when he was trusted by King Roald to teach chivalry to the realm's future protectors! But her face was stone as she listened to the dead silence. Someone cleared his throat.

"I will, my lord." Deryne's eyes flashed to a tall, pale young man to her far right, the farthest he could be from her cousin and his friends. It was the same one who she had seen before Cadel had called her name...

Attractive blue eyes met hers as the boy stepped forwards casually, ignoring all the raised eyebrows and stares he was given. Several boys exchanged glances.

"You, Page Inar?" The surprise was evident in haMinch's arch tone. Inar bowed eloquently.

"Yes, my lord," he said in a low voice, one that made Deryne look at him again. He seemed more of a young man than a boy; perhaps he was a fourth-year who had started a year late….

But he seemed even older than that- And, as she looked into his eyes, she realized something that had been stuck in the back of her mind, before he had volunteered himself-

No one stood by him. There was several feet between the young man and the next page….

"So be it," haMinch said loudly, dragging Deryne away from her observations. "Page Deryne, be sure you are down in the mess hall in fifteen minutes. Don't be late."

* * *

AN: Hope that it seems realistic and there's no cardboard characters... If any reader could review and tell me what might make it better, I would be much in your debt. 


	3. Chapter 2: Breakfast

AN: Hello! I'm actually surprised with myself; I am getting into the plot much faster than I thought I would... Thanks to my reviewers, Heiress of Lohaust, SarahE7191, bookworm917, fairydust000, PrincessSolaria, amy, sarralynsalmalin, and my beta, KyrieofAccender. I have realized I forgot a disclaimer, so count this as one for the entire story:

Disclaimer: I AM NOT Tamora Pierce. Tortall is hers, many characters are. I own (most of) their children and my plot.

This chappie is mostly filler, but important and interesting filler, I hope...

* * *

_Chapter Two_

_Breakfast_

Deryne silently allowed the staring boys to file out past her, following Lord haMinch to breakfast. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that Cadel lingered with his friends, along with Inar. When the door shut after the last straggler, Cadel grinned.

"Long time, Deryne," he said lowly as he strode up to her. She smiled at him.

"Hello, Cadel." Then she sighed. "Why didn't haMinch let you sponsor me, the surly ol' Owl Eyes?" The brown-haired Cadel choked at his cousin's words before bursting into raucous laughter; the straw-haired boy let a hesitant giggle escaped his lips, while their bulkier companion raised an eyebrow. "What?" Cadel just laughed.

"He does look like an owl!" the blond boy exclaimed, as if these words were a great revelation to him. His gray eyes grew large. "Gods, when he lifts his eyebrows up to stare at you-" Then he moaned. "Now I'll never be able to look at him with a straight face again!"

"And he'll put you down to scrubbing pots," the larger boy said dismissively, his full face grave. He shifted his gaze to Deryne, who almost instantly felt like fidgeting. Forcing herself to hold still, she boldly stared him down. Without blinking, he remarked in a hard voice, "It has been awhile since any girl dared come here."

"And thus it should hardly be mentioned that your manners should be pardoned, Launfal of Isanife," an icy voice answered coldly. Deryne's eyes flickered to the blond Inar, who had not moved from his place until now. Sinewy grace led the page over, his hard look for Launfal alone. Still, Deryne was warily aware of the young man's presence as he came to stand behind her, his well-sculpted face as rugged as the crags of the Grimhold Mountains, his fierce eyes as strong as the winds that raced through those northren alps. She was very aware of how huge he was; he dwarfed the other boys and her. Cadel looked back and forth between the two boys, then smiled to Deryne reassuringly before he clapped the shorter page's shoulder.

"Lighten up, Laun," he said brightly before turning to her. "Sorry, cousin. Laun is the surly sort, but no doubt your wit will charm him within a few days." Laun emitted a dismissive snort, and Deryne's eyebrows rose. Apparently, both of them doubted it. "This is Aloin of Jesslaw," he added, gesturing to the scrawny blond. "He's also a first year page. Laun is his sponsor." Aloin grinned.

"At least I know class will be interesting with you, if you keep making names up," he commented. "I wouldn't want to have to study with a bunch of sticks in the mud."

"Like me, no doubt," Laun said sarcastically. Aloin cowed before his sponsor.

"No-! I mean-" he said hastily. Then he hung his head. "Maybe?" Deryne could not help the small smile that crossed her face at Aloin's abashed face.

"That's it," Cadel encouraged, a wicked glint in his eyes as he shared a glance with his cousin. "Put that stuffy third-year in his place, the ol' stick in the mud!" Laun glared at Cadel.

"You aren't helping," he said tartly. "I would think that the third years should stick together in everything-"

"Including the mud, of course. But you would say that," Deryne said solemnly. Laun eyed her suspiciously, as if suspecting that she mocked him. Cadel snorted. Aloin eyed the pair for a moment, then grinned.

"I get it!" he said gleefully. "Sticks together! In the mud!"

* * *

"I fear Laun won't forgive me for that anytime soon," Deryne sighed as they sat down after haMinch's prayer. She watched Laun carefully, ready to fall silent the moment he turned towards her. For the moment, he was busy speaking with the boy who had defended the foreign lad her father was supposedly healing.

"Don't be silly," Cadel admonished absent-mindedly, eyeing his plate. "Hmm… food looks good. Nothing poisonous… this time." Deryne seized a piece of bread, ignoring the eyes on her as she savagely bit into the food. The crust was hard, but the inside was delicious. She closed her eyes as it dissolved in her mouth.

"So…," she began slowly when she looked around again. Her gaze fell on her sponsor. "Who is this Inar?" She looked around in time to see Cadel frown slightly. "What?"

"Well, he's from the north," he said carefully. "But as for his fief…." He gnawed on his lip. "It was destroyed by Scanran forces during the war." A gasp escaped Deryne's lips; she could not stop her eyes from flickering back to the grim young man who was still waiting in line to serve himself. "But don't tell anyone," he said swiftly. "Most only know him as Inar of Ferensfell, and there are so many obscure fiefs up north by the border that no one keeps track of…."

"That's terrible," she said softly. "Did he join the pages late…? He looks so old…"

"They say the northern nobles age fast," Cadel said, grim. "And I would think that that goes double for him. He is fifteen winters in November…." He fell silent for a few moments, then began again with a bit more determined cheer in his voice. "He is Gifted, like you, so you will be able to talk with him during that class." Deryne sighed.

"I do not know if I will be with the other pages," she admitted lowly. "After all, as Master Numair pointed out, I would be years ahead of the others." Cadel considered this, then shrugged.

"How is Rikash? I have not seen him for awhile." Deryne's lips twitched.

"As buried in his studies as ever. I've only managed to keep track of him because of our lessons with his father." Then her eyes lit up. "Oh! Remind me to show you the new trick we've managed!" Cadel's dreamy hazel eyes narrowed sharply.

"Trick, eh?" A slight grin crossed his face. "I can hardly not be suspicious." Deryne straightened with indignation.

"This one was done with complete support and instruction from Master Salmalin!" she retorted. Cadel cocked an eyebrow.

"You can't blame me for checking." He laughed. "After last time-" Deryne shook her head.

"No, this one has nothing to do with trying to set fire to anyone's hair," she said ruefully.

"I should hope not."

"We were trying to set it without letting the person realize that anything was happening!" Deryne's voice raised slightly with outrage. "It wasn't supposed to hurt!"

"Ah, but it did. Quite a lot, actually."

"You set his hair on fire?" Aloin leaned across the table, gray eyes alighting with interest.

"No," Cadel said shortly. "That was Rikash. She was supposed to protect my hair- and my head."

"What happened?" the other boy asked eagerly.

"She failed," Cadel replied shortly. "Thank the gods that Master Salmalin had seen…."

"Don't worry; you won't be the experiment this time," Deryne injected before Aloin could ask any more questions. "This is just a control exercise he gave us, but it looks grand when it turns out right."

"And what happens when it goes wrong?" Cadel wanted to know, but Deryne sent him a withering glare.

"It doesn't."

"I don't think he believes you," Aloin remarked.

"Of course not," the third year page answered, voice matter-of-fact. "Anyway, has Salmalin determined either of your strengths yet?" Deryne made a face.

"Even though there's a spell to figure that out," she said. "That would take a moment for a mage of his skill-"

"He still won't do it." It was not a question.

"But Rikash seems to be a blasting mage, even more so than his father." Deryne stretched lazily. "Master Numair isn't happy 'bout that. I think he was hoping that Rikash could be a bit more constructive than he is." She sighed. "You know, lately, he's been having trouble with certain spells? Rikash, I mean. He'll try sommat as simple as manipulating water, and he'll torch it. Bang!" She spread her fingers to show her cousin. "It looks rather awesome, the moment before the water vaporizes," she said thoughtfully. "But that doesn't make Rikash any happier."

"I would think not," Cadel agreed.

"Hmm… at least he can light a candle, unlike his da," she commented lazily. "His control with flames is impeccable, but anything else…." She shrugged. "It's almost like he's going backwards in his learning. Lately, I haven't wanted to bring it up. He's too grim and angry most of the time, anyway." Cadel looked worried.

"I should go to see him,." he said, obviously troubled by the set of his face.

"He'd just say he's a year older than you and that he is quite able to handle his own affairs and would appreciate your backing out, thank you very much," Deryne pointed out. It was a touchy matter- the last time she and Rikash had spoken- no, yelled- about it, they had not talked to each other for a week afterwards. She had no inclination to repeat that….

"What else could I do?" Cadel asked, concerned. "I'm his friend, or I was once… that must be hard, not being able to control-" Deryne scowled; what was he not understanding here? He knew Rikash as well as she did!

"For pity's sake!" she hissed, eyes flashing with impatience. "Don't!" Rikash did not need sympathy; he would be fine, as soon as he got over this sulk he lingered in. There was no reason to prolong it by fussing. Cadel stared at her, wide-eyed.

"Fine," he said lowly. "But I still should visit. I have not spoken to him- really spoken to him- in longer than I care to admit." An uncomfortable silence hung over them.

"Well, then," Deryne remarked lightly. "-you can be certain of surprising him when you interrupt his incessant studying." Her grin broke the gravity of their talk, and her cousin had to laugh at her words.

"Hey!" Deryne turned from Cadel to see the auburn-haired boy who had diverted Laun's attention waving. He was grinning at someone. "Meq!" A big, dark-haired boy sauntered towards their table, a bruise on his golden-skinned cheek. He smiled at the red-headed page waving him down, then scanned the table, his eye widening with surprise as they landed on Deryne. However, his pace did not falter and- when he squeezed in between Laun and the other boy- he grinned at her.

"So you're the new page, eh?" His voice- despite his youth- was deep, heavy with an exotic accent.

_Carthaki, _Deryne thought before smiling back. So this is the foreigner whose whereabouts haMinch was wondering about before….

"I am Mequen Hetnim of Tayt," he said, inclining his head in lieu of a bow.

"Hetnim?" Deryne pursed her lips. "That sounds familiar, but from where I have heard it-"

"My father is Emperor Kaddar's chief healer," Mequen said quietly.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with interest. "Of course! Zaimid Hetnim! My father was speaking of him only a few weeks ago. My father," she clarified, grinning. "-is the chief healer of the palace."

"You're Lord Neal's daughter?" Mequen smiled, obviously at ease. "I would not have guessed in a century's time. You do not look like him, and you seem less-" He fumbled for a word for a moment, then lamely finished with, "-exuberant." She laughed.

"Was he in one of his moods when he brought you to the healer's wing?"

"He was jumping about and squawking like a wet rooster, if that's what you meant. All respect due to your good father, of course." Amused, Deryne raised an eyebrow as an image of her father as a chicken popped up in her mind. She would have to tell her mother that comparison. And her Aunt Kel.

"Why were you there, anyway?" she queried.

"Tynen of Kasem's mates among the pages decided to jump me for being a stupid foreigner," Mequen replied lightly. "Your father came in a few minutes later…. They won't be doing it again anytime soon."

"Kasem?" Deryne frowned; she had heard a story from her uncle Dom about him; he had tried to bully Cadel during her cousin's first year as a page.

"He's a squire, now," Cadel said lowly. "Isn't here much, but when he is-" His eyes darkened; he did not need to continue. Deryne rolled her eyes.

"Men," she sighed. "Always fighting." Laun snorted.

"Get used to it," he told her bluntly. "You won't change it. You'll probably make it worse." Deryne's eyebrows rose. She saw Cadel glaring at his friend. "After all, both the Lioness and your aunt stirred up trouble when they were here." His eyes flickered about the silent table. "Have none of you heard of Ralon of Malven? Joren of Stone Mountain?" The names silenced the boys and Deryne. Even though she had lived at the palace all her life, she could not remember even hearing them once.

One minute passed. Then another. Then Deryne lifted her head to meet his hard eyes.

"You haven't, have you?" Laun's mouth twisted into a sympathetic smirk. "Gods, you would think they would warn any female page of the legacies they inherit." Deryne remained silent, staring at him.

"Laun, cut it out," Cadel growled. Mequen and the auburn-haired boy were frowning, though Deryne could not figure out who was the object of their thoughts. Aloin looked anxious. Ignoring the other pages, Laun stood and bowed mockingly.

"I am more a friend to her than you, Cadel," he said simply. "I only warn her. You would convince her that this will be easy. But I believe there is a curse upon the women who would strive for knighthood and- sooner or later- one of them must pay."

"Nonsense. If people stopped getting in the way, there would be no hardships except those of knighthood itself," the other boy retorted. All the boys were staring at either her, Cadel, or Laun. Deryne felt her cheeks flush.

Was Launfal of Isanife telling the truth? Already, it seemed that her presence had caused trouble….

Who were the two he mentioned? Who were Ralon of Malven and Joren of Stone Mountain? What had happened to them?

And what connection did they have with the Lioness and her aunt Kel?

"Are you leaving, Isanife?" Inar appeared from seemingly nowhere. Both Laun and Deryne broke each other's gazes to look at him. "I'd like to sit there, if you are finished." Turning one last time, Laun glanced at Deryne, then back at Inar.

"The seat is yours, Ferensfell," he said coolly, then stalked off, his eyes narrowed.

"Who are-" Deryne began lowly as Inar sat down, but Cadel shook his head.

"I don't know," he whispered as the others greeted Inar.

"So what brings you to sit with us third years, Ferensfell?" the boy with the reddish hair next to Mequen asked cheerily. Inar nodded at Deryne.

"Though I doubt she needs me," the blond young man said lowly. "I am Deryne's sponsor." She smiled at him as attention left him and returned to her.

"Deryne of Queenscove, right?" the auburn-haired boy asked politely. "Queenscove is a praised house. We are honored to have you among us." He nodded deeply, a gesture that Deryne returned, as awkward as she felt. "I am Evrain of Ghenset."

"My sponsor," Mequen added, grinning again at her. She cocked an eyebrow.

"And despite the fact that the general opinion of Carthaki nobility must be that I should be hanged or burned," Deryne said dryly, watching the foreign boy's face. "I do not hear vows and indignant retorts on your end about my being here." Mequen shrugged lazily.

"That would not be my place to do so. I am a guest. A foreigner. It is not my job to complain about how King Roald rules his kingdom," he pointed out. Deryne accepted his answer, though it seemed to her that he would not give a care about her sex, anyway.

"Why are you not in Jiekai now?" she asked, naming the Carthaki capitol city. She succeeded in getting a slight grimace from him. "After all, your father is very important-"

"But my mother despises the formalities and did not want me to learn their ways." He stared off past Deryne, into the distance, as if he could see his old world. "She did not want me to come back and hate my sisters for being female. She did not want me holding her in disdain for being a woman." Blinking, he looked up. "Not that I ever would." He looked troubled.

"I doubt it, mate," Cadel said loudly. "But what of your sisters? Will your mother send them off to Jiekai, or will they come here?"

"And are they pretty?" Evrain asked, provoking a laugh from everyone. "That- if they come here- is the most important matter." Chuckling, Mequen looked down at his lap.

"Neoma is only five," he said, and several boys groaned loudly. "Cyne is eleven, but I do not know what Father has planned for her. She has a strong Gift, one that may prove equal to his. I know she wants to stay in Jiekai and learn from him at the University, but who knows how that shall end?" He shrugged, a faint frown on his lips. "Though the emperor would not object, there would be many obstacles to her becoming any sort of healer of high standing in the Carthaki court."

"And you are how old?" Aloin asked, frowning. "Are you older or younger than Cyne?" Mequen's teeth flashed against his dark skin.

"I am twelve. I suspect that you can do the math." Aloin made a face.

"I hate it," he said. "Arithmetic, any academics, really, whether it be manners, history, language- I won't need it! I just want to ride out and kill bandits, like my da!"

"But without it, where would we be?" Evrain asked mildly, grinning wickedly as he looked at his charge. Assuming a stern expression, he cleared his throat loudly. "Without proper learning-" All of the older boys groaned; some chanted the rest of the sentence with him. "-there is no base for our knight training, and we'd be no more than bloody savages."

"Is Owl Eyes fond of saying that?" Deryne asked her cousin. Cadel shook his head.

"Nope. Master Oakbridge," he told her. "He's taught deportment for years. I wouldn't be surprised if we wandered in one day to find him dead in his old chair." Deryne made a face.

"Great," she muttered. "Old, lecturing duffers on the Black God's doorstep."

"Well, if he did keel," Evrain said, voice innocent. "That'd leave us without a teacher and the dull lessons about bowing and titles and all that terrible stuff. That would be an improvement." Aloin stared at the other boy, clearly horrified. Inar nudged him.

"He's kidding," he said quietly. "I-"

Just then, the rest of the pages rose. Deryne glanced around; it seemed haMinch had dismissed them.

"Would you like to come to see Sir Myles?" Cadel asked her. "I wanted to ask him a few things…." Deryne looked at him blankly for a moment. Then she blinked. Sir Myles, the old scholar who taught the pages. The adoptive father of the Lioness.

"I'd like to stop by myself," Evrain declared. "Say hello before classes start and all."

"I've heard you all speak of him," Mequen said thoughtfully, rising. "I'll go."

"Me too!" Aloin exclaimed, dropping his napkin next to his unfinished meal. "Now?" Deryne pursed her lips, mulling it over.

Sir Myles.

Surely he would know Ralon of Malven and Joren of Stone Mountain, if anyone did. Not only was he the knowledgeable, adoptive father of the Lioness, but he had also been the Spymaster of Tortall.

Surely, if there had been something odd going on between the Lioness, Aunt Kel, and these forgotten names-

Surely he would know.

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AN: Of course, you all already know the stories. But they HAVE been hushed up in past years, and I am going to refresh everyone's memories...

We'll be meeting two familiar characters in the next chappie...guess who, besides Myles... I'll give you a hint... he/she hasn't been a main character, but he/she was important in POTS...

PLEASE REVIEW!!!


	4. Chapter 3: Sir Myles

_Thanks for reviewing, Time and Fate, SarahE7191, Heiress of Lohaust, cahawk, Pie of Doomeh. You guys are amazing! And my beta, Kyrie, is, too. And to ANYONE and EVERYONE who reads, review, please? I'd love u and you'd have my gratitude forever if u keep on , even if you're crazy or an ax murderer or-_

_Um, don't mind me. _

_Anyhow, if you could review, that would be nice. It's very easy. Just tell me what you like, don't like- whatever. If you don't like sommat, then maybe I can fix it, or turn it in another direction. Hey, maybe you'll even give me ideas! I know that replying to a couple of reviews has left me inspired... And I REALLY don't mind plot suggestions or ideas. I can't promise I'll use them, but I CAN promise that I never will if you don't review! ;D  
_

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_Chapter Three_

_Sir Myles_

Sir Myles had welcomed all of the boys and Deryne in without a moment's hesitation, a wide smile on his face as he told Cadel to shut the door behind him; he could feel a slight draft entering the large study.

"So… you have decided to come to visit, then?" he said kindly, his brown eyes twinkling. Instinctively, Deryne went up to the old man and hugged him. Myles was another person Deryne had always known in her years growing up in the palace. His wife had been perhaps the kindest, calmest healer that Deryne had ever known. Alas, Eleni had been dead for two years now, and she knew from listening to her parents speak when she was supposed to be sleeping that her husband would probably not long outlive her.

"Hello, Myles," she whispered before stepping back to bow. Myles snorted, then shook his head.

"I suppose it's no use to tell you that all those chivalrous formalities are nothing more than a way to keep you busy when your bodies are too sore for the physical rigors of training?" he asked wryly. Deryne only grinned back at him. "Hmm… I've told generations of pages the same thing… and they only told me that I'm not supposed to have spirits before lunch." A sputtering snort escaped Cadel; the other boys- even Mequen and Aloin- chuckled. Slowly, Myles made his way back to an old, large chair at a desk. "I suppose you want me to tell you about some old battle of long ago… or some of my daughter's exploits." He smiled kindly in Deryne's direction; it was true, even before she had wanted to be a knight, that her curiosity about the first lady knight in over a century, Lady Alanna of Pirate's Swoop, had led the brunette to seek Myles out.

"Actually," Cadel said in a clear voice, straightening. "I wanted to see those maps you promised to find for me. Of King Jasson's conquests?" Smiling, Myles leaned back comfortably.

"Ah… King Jasson." He looked up at the other boys. "Two of you… I do not know, though you-" He pointed to Aloin. "-have an air about you that reminds me of one page, many years ago-" Grinning broadly, the blond bowed.

"Aloin of Jesslaw, Sir Myles," he said. Myles's face brightened.

"Ah, a Jesslaw! I don't doubt it, boy…." His eyes- glittering with a pronounced shrewdness that had not been there a moment before- fell on Mequen. "And that means that you are Mequen Hetnim. Welcome to Tortall." The dark page bowed silently. "Where was I, Cadel…?"

"King Jasson," the boy prompted immediately. A trace of a smile crossed Myles's face.

"King Jasson," he murmured. "There was a king. King Roald's great grandfather. I was alive, then… Gods, that makes me feel old…." Deryne frowned; she had not known the man was that old! Myles cleared his throat. "Yes, our last king, King Jonathan, was a great king, like his grandfather. Roald I the Peacemaker and Roald II, our king now, cannot compare, good kings though they were and are.

"But there is a fire, a matter of chance and the gods' blessings, that lead to the great ones…." He shook his head. "Would that Jon had not abdicated," he said sadly. Then he smiled again. "But he felt he was getting too old for such things… He and Thayet- gods bless her!- have led Tortall through dark times. It is now theirs to enjoy the peacetimes without the burdens of ruling."

"The maps?" Cadel asked politely, though Deryne could see he was fidgeting. Apparently Myles could, too, for he smiled.

"In the back. I am certain the rest of you would find them interesting, too-" A loud crash made Deryne and the other pages jump and whirl around; Myles simply looked towards the source of the noise.

"Have you found what you were looking for?" he asked mildly, and a figure stepped out from behind a bookcase.

A hint of a smile crossed Deryne's face at the looks on most of the pages' faces. Still, she could hardly blame them. After all, they had never seen Irnai the Seer before. She and Cadel merely exchanged amused glances.

Irnai was a lovely woman, but there was something alarming about her features that led to averted gazes of fearful folk rather than the open stares of suitors. Always dressed in blue or green, she had a way of floating about rather than actually walking. In fact, Deryne would not have been surprised if Irnai one day lifted his skirts up to reveal that her feet hung in the air rather than resting on the ground. Her dark green eyes were always dreamy, her skin almost as pale as snow. When she smiled, she showed a mouth that missed a front tooth. Deryne had no idea why Irnai had not just asked her grandfather Duke Baird or her father Neal to fix it; any palace healer could have made her smile as flawless as a debutante's.

"Yes," she said in a detached voice that raised the hairs on Deryne's skin. "Yes, I do believe I have…." Her eyes roved over to the group of pages staring at her. "Hmm… hand of fate's on one of you… champions, traitors, friends, foes-" She frowned faintly then, nibbling on her lip. "No, no- that is not right… Death and fire- no, that is the mage… no, the son…. Wind and water, born the same year, I believe- and earth is not here, no, beneath me and not awake…. Hmm…." She waved a hand at them absently. "I will get to you later, once the clouds have cleared…." Deryne saw Aloin look at Evrain, his eyes wide. She sighed inwardly. She had a resigned feeling that they would grow accustom to that expression on that boy's face….

"Are you all right, Irnai?" Myles asked kindly, and she fixed her gaze on him.

"Yes," was all she said. "I will speak to you later, Myles." The old man hid a small smile, and winked at the pages.

"Yes," he said, his voice warm. "Make sure you do."

"Oh, I will," she replied, voice still sounding as though she were far away. "I see a storm on the horizon…. The rain is coming; the Wave Walker has bestowed her gifts… but then again, so have the rest of them." Her voice grew to the thin whine of a petulant child. "And they won't show me…. They must come, and yet only three are here… only three are awake, but it is not the same three as those who are here… only two are here and awake…." She cocked her head to one side, gazing vaguely at the wall, though Deryne- who had goose bumps rushing across her skin- knew that it was not what the seer looked at. "Tis very odd…. The thief is borrowing one, for his sister has stolen a keepsake of his- or will, I cannot truly tell… and the captor of ghosts is set to steal away the next for good… but if his plot succeeds, he will destroy us all…." Myles looked from the stunned, slightly horrified pages to the young woman.

"Irnai?" The seer straightened and blinked, as if waking. But her eyes were as dreamy as always when she turned to him. "Perhaps you should take a walk to the Needle. It _is _a nice day, and I always find that a good walk clears my mind." Irnai nodded, then breezed past Deryne and the others, her green gown trailing on the floor as she turned into the corridor.

A long moment passed by. Then-

"Is she crazy?" Aloin asked hesitantly. Deryne and Cadel smiled; Myles chuckled.

"No, lad…. She has an odd way of seeing the world, though." His cheerful, wrinkled countenance darkened slightly. "But I do believe that everything she says is a riddle, a riddle of truth. It is why I write everything she says down, a little bit of the reason I encourage her visits."

"Why else?" Aloin was still watching the door timidly, as if he was worried that she would suddenly sweep in again. Myles raised his eyebrows.

"I enjoy her company. She is… refreshing, a sweet girl when that eerie cloud of fortune is not hanging over her, as it has for several months now."

"If you say so," Evrain said dubiously. "She seems like a depressing sort of girl to me…."

"She's pretty…," Aloin murmured, then shrugged. "Do you know her, Cadel? Deryne?" The pair exchanged glances, then shrugged in unison.

"A bit," Cadel said softly.

"She would be there when we came to see Myles," Deryne whispered. "And then she began to appear in all sorts of places and greet us- almost lucidly," she added. "But then she stopped." She looked away, feeling forlorn.

"She comes and goes in waves," Myles said gently. "It must be very hard for her, not to see anything but what is to come and what might come and what has come with no way to distinguish any of it from this world, the one she lives in. For all I know, she lives and speaks to many in different worlds, all while she wanders this one dazedly, occasionally revealing what is to come."

"It sounds difficult," Mequen said lowly, and Myles smiled.

"Ah, but your appreciation helps," he commented. "After all-" His eyes twinkled as he tapped his head meaningfully. "She sees it." Then he glanced at Cadel. "King Jasson's conquests. I pinned the map up in the back of the room. I even put the texts out for you, and added some of my own notes to them." Cadel smiled.

"Thank you, Myles," he said lowly, then meandered away with Evrain, Mequen, and Aloin following with intrigued looks on their faces. Myles looked at Deryne.

"Not going to join them?" he asked, surprised. "You were always one for stories." Deryne decided to seize the moment.

"Myles," she whispered, looking back at Cadel and the others. "Who is Ralon of Malven? And Joren of Stone Mountain?" Instantly, Myles's easy-going face hardened; for a moment, the girl wondered if asking had perhaps not been such a grand idea after all.

"Where did you hear those names?" he asked casually. Deryne shrugged, playing along.

"A boy mentioned them as- as troublemakers. Of awhile ago," she added.

"Hmm." Myles watched her closely. "And they were mentioned along with Alanna and Keladry's names, weren't they?" Deryne could not help it; she winced at his perceptive inference. It would be pointless- and stupid- to lie.

"Yes," she murmured as Cadel started explaining the battles along the Tusaine river valley with the enthusiasm of a scholar.

"Hmph." Myles frowned. "And I suppose you won't tell me who dared use them? To insult you?" Deryne remained silent. "Knight's pride and honor be damned," he muttered, shaking his head.

"Myles, will you tell me?" she asked softly, unaware that her voice had slipped into a plead. The old knight frowned, glaring at his desk.

"Ralon of Malven was a traitor, one who tried to kill the old king." Deryne's bright eyes widened. "Never thought I'd live to call Jon the old king," he said absently before continuing. "He- Ralon, I mean- and Alanna fought as pages. He was a bully. Bigger, stronger- he beat her to a pulp. Until she began working harder. She pushed herself harder and harder until she beat him in an open fight. Ralon left and- well, you've probably heard the story of the man Claw, who helped Roger, Duke of Conte, in that mad plot to kill Jon and- especially- Alanna, after the duke came back to life again." Deryne stared at him. Coming back to life? Duke Roger had been dead?

"I never heard that part!" she exclaimed in a hush. Myles smiled dryly, running his finger along the edge of his chair.

"Another story, another day," he said. "Otherwise I shall never answer your questions. Suffice it to say that Ralon was a despicable traitor and would have been even if Alanna had not shamed him into leaving the pages. In fact, it is a good thing she did. As it was, he was killed by Baron George Cooper, her husband, the day Jon used the Dominion Jewel to hold the land together.

"Joren of Stone Mountain…." Myles sighed heavily before looking back at Deryne. "Now there is a nasty conflict, a conservative attack upon Kel which had its absurdities and even perhaps a shade of a twisted sort of truth. Not that your aunt should be blamed at all for any of it," he said quickly. "He was an arrogant page- a plotting, obsessed squire- who attempted to obstruct and shadow and discourage Kel in any way he could."

"What happened to him?" Deryne asked, her lips numb. She was beginning to understand what Laun had insinuated… and she felt sick at the thought of it.

"He died in the Chamber of Ordeal," Myles said flatly. Deryne's mouth flew open in unsuppressed shock; certainly, she had known the Chamber determined who had the valor to be a knight-

But how evil did a person have to be for the Chamber to kill them?

"And his father came into Kel's rooms the very next morning, screaming about how she had destroyed Joren, about how it was her fault-"

"That she had corrupted him," Deryne said in a shaky voice. "_That's_ what he meant. That we- _corrupt_-"

"Nonsense." Myles's voice rang out sharply, disrupting her thoughts. "Absolute nonsense. Only they are to blame for their own ruin." Deryne stared down at the floor. "Deryne of Queenscove, look at me."

Reluctantly, she raised her eyes to his firm gaze, and he put a hand on her shoulder.

"I can tell you that it is probably one of Kel's most troubling memories," he said abruptly. "And she has had many. The guilt is… enormous. Overwhelming. But foolish. Do not let it bother you; do your work. That is all that matters."

"Deryne! Come and see this!" Deryne turned towards Cadel's excited voice; the boys were waiting for her expectantly. Myles squeezed her shoulder.

"You hear me?" he demanded. Softly, Deryne smiled at him.

"Yup," she replied quietly, though- secretly- she could not promise that she could not think about it. That she could not feel guilty.

As she joined the others to look upon the old maps and drawings, she could not help but think of Laun's words, when he had left the breakfast table.

Even when the sun had set, and she climbed wearily into her bed from a long day with Cadel and the others, they still echoed in her mind.

_There is a curse upon the women who would strive for knighthood and- sooner or later- one of them must pay. _Despite her scorn in the words, a chill ran up and down her spine. Even with the warm, end of summer air floating through the window, she felt as though she had been frozen by the coldest blizzard storm.

_"_Gods of Fire and Ice, Storm and Wind,"she whispered softly in Yamani, her mother's native tongue. "Yama and Kita, Amaya and Makan, guide and guard me. Give me strength."

* * *

Yama is actually from POTS. Mention in First Test. Kudos to Lela-of-Bast and her Tortall character lists. 

So we have met Myles and Irnai...

Kel comes soon... er... or later. I promise. Meanwhile, we have first mention of part of the title of this story! Whoot!

Ahem. I KNOW that Myles has got to be ANCIENT by this point, but hey! It's Tortall, right? He's now the sterotypical, ancient scholar. And there's no way I'm letting Myles die! Not yet! I already let George's mom die of old age, ok?

This was another mainly getting up to speed, a refresher of Ralon and Joren for everybody. It's been so long since I've read SOTL... sigh... No frigging time! Alright, ranting rambles over.

Feedback, please?


	5. Chapter 4: Accidents and Unpleasant Arri

_AN: Hello, all! Here is chapter four! My thanks to my reviewers, **abyssgirl**, **PrincessSolaria**, **cahawk**, **Pie of Doomeh**, **C.T. Eleczko**, **sarralynsalmalin**, and **Heiress of Lohaust**. And thank you, my dear beta Kyrie. And also, just as a note; I have changed Cadel of Masbolle to Cadel of Broakhale. For services to the Crown, Dom- who is a younger son- was given lands. I thought it just made more sense, because Dom wouldn't have inherited Masbolle. Cheers!

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_Chapter 4_

_Accidents and Unpleasant Arrivals_

Someone banged on the door. Grimacing, Deryne rolled out of bed, holding back an exclamation as her bare feet touched the cold stone floor.

"Deryne!" Cadel called through the door.

"Hang on!" she replied loudly, grabbing her breeches and yanking them on. She had received her practice clothes and formal page uniforms yesterday from the tailor.

"You were sleeping, weren't you?" Deryne smiled.

"Course not, Cadel!" She heard him laugh, as if he did not believe her. Then she stripped off her nightshirt and grabbed a clean shirt and a tunic. As her fingers nimbly buttoned the soft, worn wool, she whipped around. "I'm decent," she said loudly, collecting her long hair to tie it back as the door swung open. Cadel, Mequen, and Evrain stood outside her room. Pursing her lips, she reached behind her to separate her hair into three bunches to be braided.

"If you're gonna braid that everyday, you're gonna have to wake earlier," Mequen pointed out. When the three others looked at him with raised eyebrows, he shrugged. "I have two sisters, remember?" A small smile wormed its way across his face. "Cyne only learned to do it herself about a year ago. Before that, she would complain about how long it took for her maid to braid her hair, because Kiathi had to make certain it was perfect." Deryne grinned.

"Your sister sounds like an all right gel," she said, purposely letting her voice fall into a lazy, common drawl. "If she comes o'er here, I'll make sure she finds herself welcome." Mequen smiled, running a hand through his hair.

"I believe you," he answered. "I think I could trust her with you," he joked, his dark eyes glinting with humor.

"We ought to get down to breakfast," Evrain said loudly. "Before those animals eat everything." Deryne smiled at him.

"That's it, Ev," she teased, blue eyes sparkling. "Think with your stomach. That will keep you alive long enough to face bandits." He straightened, cocking an eyebrow at her.

"Aye," he agreed. "I'll also survive haMinch, unlike you lot." He pointed to his chest, his eyes resting on Deryne meaningfully. "_I_ tend to think before I speak to him."

"Aww, Deryne's a good lass," Cadel protested, grinning. "And we aren't so bad, either." Evrain's eyebrows rose.

"But he's well aware that that illustrious title, 'ol' Owl Eyes,' was not there the day _before _she came, and now it's commonly used…. Not to mention that he's a small-minded conservative who would arm a gel with a fan over any weapon, even if pirates were knocking the door down…. And _you_, Cadel, have not been in his favor since that incident with Kasem, where you started grinning when Owl Eyes was yelling at you-"

"Plus I'm the son of the second lady knight in a century, and cousin to the third female page in that time," Cadel continued, chuckling dryly.

"And then I'm the blasted foreigner," Mequen finished, voice deliberately light.

"Not to mention those fourth years you bruised up," Evrain added, grinning with a far away look in his eyes. "Gods, I _wish_ I could have seen it-"

"Had you seen it, you would've joined in," Cadel pointed out. The auburn-haired boy nodded firmly.

"Exactly," he said, as if it were the most obvious fact in the world.

"Ah, but then haMinch would hate all of us," Deryne drawled. "As it is, Ghenset, you're only guilty by association."

They sat down next to Aloin and his sponsor, Deryne deliberately seating herself as far away from Laun as she could get. Her bright gaze traveled idly to the high table; haMinch was not there. Instead, a stern man with dark skin surveyed the mess hall grimly.

"Ezeko," Cadel muttered in her ear. "He helps Owl Eyes with the drills. And since we're starting _real _work today…" Deryne grimaced. Today would be hard. They had gone to practice at the training yards throughout the week after she had arrived, waiting for the stragglers from the far corners of the realm to trickle in. There were only three other first year pages, all of whom only came near a cheerful Deryne with their eyes alert, as if expecting trickery or an attack. Garrin of Dieslin, Marlon of Yarrowhill, and Vishar of the Bahzir, the desert people of the south, all avoided her and seemed to have adopted Laun as their leader. Deryne sincerely hoped that the older boy would not take advantage of their trust; she could scarcely not suspect Laun was up to something that might cause trouble for her. She only wished that the other page would not force Cadel to choose sides. Deryne knew her cousin would stand up for her every time, but she did not want him losing friends, whatever they thought of her.

Her grim thoughts left her as they finished their meal and exited the dining hall, stealing and hiding Aloin's tunic, which he had taken off while he ate. The first year chased Cadel around, yelping as Evrain held him back. Cadel tossed the piece of clothing to Mequen, who in turn- apparently not wanting to get mixed up in any sort of mischief- immediately shoved it into Deryne's arms. Aloin escaped Evrain's hold and made his way through the pages towards them.

"C'mon, Deryne," he pleaded, his dusty blond hair shading his eyes. A playful smirk danced across Deryne's lips, and soft laughter left her as she hid it behind her back. The boy scowled. "You'd think a gel would have pity…." Deryne's blue eyes glinted with amusement.

"I'm not one of those lovely goddesses that grace the Court's dance floors," she said wickedly. "The sooner you figure that out-" Her bright, dancing eyes flickered across the passing crowd, and they fell upon one, unmoving figure.

Inar of Ferensfell was looking at her with the oddest expression on his face. His blue eyes were narrowed, his countenance dark. His lips were curled into the faintest, dazed frown, his brow furrowed as though he struggled to recall something. The smile fled Deryne's lips as her sponsor's harsh gaze sent chills up her spine. Aloin took advantage of the moment to seize his tunic with a gleeful yell, while Cadel and Evrain groaned. However, the first year's joy was short-lived; in a motion quicker than any of them could catch, Mequen's hand snaked out, and he snatched the article of clothing from the blond page's loose grip and took off, with his friends cheering him on as they dashed after the rest of the boys, Aloin's howls of dismay fading as they left Deryne and Inar behind.

Once they were the last ones left in the passageway, Deryne cautiously approached the fourth year page, never breaking his gaze. When she stopped, only a few feet from him, she frowned. His stare was oddly blank-

"Inar?" The boy started, as if waking from a slumber. He grimaced for a moment, then, bringing his hand up to rub his eyes, he shook his head. This time, when he looked at her, his eyes were friendly but guarded as always. "Are you all right?" He smiled ruefully at her.

"Yeah." His voice was hoarse, and rough. "I just-had a moment-" He cleared his throat. "You reminded me… of someone. For a moment, there, when you had the blond boy-"

"Aloin," Deryne corrected automatically. Inar smiled, running a hand through his golden blond hair.

"Right. When you had Aloin's tunic…."

"Who?" she asked, curiosity piqued. He shook his head gently.

"No one important," he said in a low, rumbling voice. "Just… someone from a long, long time ago." Fleetingly, Deryne remembered what Cadel had said about Inar's family; dead, in the Scanran raid.

"Right," she said, her voice sounding far away to her. Then she cleared her throat. "We should get moving; the others are pretty far ahead, and we wouldn't want haMinch giving out punishment duties first thing this morning." Inar's mouth twisted in a dry smile.

"Defintely something we want to avoid," he agreed, and Deryne whirled around, her long and swift strides taking her towards the training yard, Inar right behind her.

* * *

"_This_, lads-" Obafem Ezeko bellowed. Deryne's eyes narrowed with annoyance; he could not even bear to acknowledge her presence? "-is a staff! I trust you might be _faintly _familiar with it." There were disgruntled grumbles of assent among the pages. "Good!" he shouted, walking along the line, without a glance at Deryne. 

_Perhaps, like haMinch, _she thought with amusement. _He thinks I will go away if he closes his eyes and pretends I'm not here. _Indeed, the training master completely and determinedly ignored her for the most part, unless he found something too tantalizing not to criticize.

"Older pages, pair up and begin drilling! First years, gi' o'er here!" There was a flurry of motion in which the first years hastily made their way through the crowd of boys reaching for staffs and clustered around Ezeko. He scowled at each one of them in turn. "Bahzir!" he snapped, and Vishar stood slightly straighter, his proud chin stuck slightly out. "Do your people even bother trying to teach their youth the sword?" The dark-skinned boy's mouth twitched downwards in a frown.

"I should hope so, sir," he said stiffly. "Bandit raids can destroy an unprepared tribe." Ezeko snorted, not bothering to reply as he eyed Mequen.

"Healer's boy, eh? All the way from Carthak… you're royalty down there, aren't you?"

"Near to it," the boy replied reluctantly. Deryne gave him a sympathetic face. She knew he disliked announcing his status in Carthak to anyone, let alone the whole line of first year pages. In Carthak, distant relatives of the emperor received more ostentatious honor and finery than King Roald and Queen Shinkokami in Tortall.

"Well, here you're nothing," the sergeant replied, not missing a beat. "Nothing but a foreigner who's a bit old for a first year. Your mother held on a little longer than most, eh?" Mequen blanched, and a small smile crossed the man's face before he turned to Deryne. He took a breath, narrowed his eyes, and then sighed, shaking his head. Without another look or word at them, the man turned and walked a few paces away.

"Lost for words, eh?" she said softly. Aloin giggled nervously, and Mequen grinned.

"Queenscove, fifty sit ups!" the sergeant roared, making her jump. "The rest of you, pair up and watch Ghenset and Foxcrek! Copy their motions!" Deryne grimaced, but said nothing else as she promptly leapt down to the ground to obey.

"So you know my name, at least," she muttered darkly as she rushed through the punishment easily. Around her, the sound of hesitant wood on wood began as the first years mimicked the movements of Evrain and his partner. At last, what her Aunt Kel had said had come true; Deryne thanked the gods for all those horrible practices and workouts she had been forced to do.

"Girl, when you're done with floundering about, pair up with Isanife!" Deryne nearly stopped at these words. Alarmed, she looked up at Laun, who stood by Ezeko, leaning on a staff lazily. The man glared at her. "You don't have all day! Get over here!" Finishing as fast as she could and cursing to herself, the page rolled over and pushed herself up off the ground to cross the ground between them. She saw Mequen throw her a sympathetic look as he steadily tapped Aloin's staff. "Run!"

_Just obey, _she thought grimly as she began to jog._ Don't think- _

"We have an odd number of first years," he said tartly as a way of explanation. "Isanife will show you the drill." Deryne's eyes narrowed slightly in annoyance.

"It's a one beat, right?" she said coolly. Ezeko looked at her in unmasked surprise. Deryne nearly cocked an eyebrow, but managed to stop herself at the last moment. "As in, one-one-one-" The man scowled again.

"Don't be pert, Queenscove," he cautioned. "Don't try me. I'll win every time, and you'll be pig fodder, you hear me?"

"Aye aye, sir," she muttered. Ezeko glared for a moment, unable to decide whether she was serious or not, and made a retreat to check on the other first years.

"Jesslaw! Just as fumbled-fingered as your father!" she heard, and smiled slightly.

"Sommat funny, Deryne?" Her smile instantly disappearing, the girl looked at a smirking Laun. Fury boiled in her veins. She smiled politely back at him.

"Not at all, Launfal," she drawled. His eye twitched slightly, and Deryne allowed her smile to turn mockingly sweet. She had always managed to puzzle people like Laun with such acts. And when they were confused, they almost always shut up.

Almost always.

His eyes narrowed dangerously.

"You know the drills, then?" Without waiting for a reply, he whipped his staff towards her head. Instantly falling into a wary crouch, Deryne knocked his stroke away easily, then cut in towards his middle. He thwacked the stick away and- Deryne realized gratefully- fell into the drill time that the rest of the first year pages were struggling through. Both he and Deryne matched strikes, meeting each other's eyes once in awhile with a bored stare.

"Isanife! Queenscove! Since this seems so easy, you can go faster than the rest of these laggards!" Ezeko bellowed. "The rest of you, pick up that pace! Your grannies could do better! Block-block-block-block-we haven't even started low and high blocks yet! C'mon, you lazy lot!" Immediately, Laun sped up the pace, until his staff was moving almost too swiftly for Deryne to keep up.

_Just don't think, _she told herself for the second time. It had been a lesson her Aunt Kel had drilled into her. _Just trust your body- _

_Crack! Crack! Crack! _Their staffs slammed together with more force than the other hesitant first years, who feared pinching their fingers. Whenever Laun smacked her hands, Deryne ignored the small pains lancing through them. At least it was not cold; as summer lapsed, she would struggle through a new sort of trouble. When it grew colder, every hit would jar her bones, and every one that landed on her person would feel as if it were shattering her frozen blood.

"Queenscove, keep those elbows up! Away from your sides!" Deryne sucked in a deep breath, noticing that none of the others seemed even slightly fatigued.

_Aunt Kel was right, _she thought gloomily. _They_ are _stronger. _Still, she had not worked for nothing- Stubbornly refusing to give in and ask Laun to slow down, she matched his strike for strike.

Deryne kept up with the other boy until Ezeko called them to a halt. Then, after adding high and low blocks, he went from pair to pair, critizing their handholds and positioning. When he came around to Laun and Deryne, he watched for a nerve-wracking moment before passing on without a word. The brunette girl could not stop the small, smug smile playing across her lips. Aunt Kel had taught her quite well, indeed, if she had managed to escape the insults of the drill sergeant on her first day.

When they finally stopped, Deryne was sweating, and her arms ached. Ezeko banished them off to the baths before lunch.

"Thanks, Queenscove!" Laun snickered as he shoved his pole into her hands and jogged away. "They go on the rack in the shed!" Deryne scowled, then pursed her lips.

"I can take them." She looked over her shoulder to see her sponsor, Inar. His face was hard, every detail perfectly accented by his pale skin. She smiled ruefully as she wandered over towards the shed, at the edge of the training field.

"It's alright," she said ruefully. "I'll just put them away-" Before he could say anything else, she hefted the staffs and leapt up the stairs to the shed.

A shriek left her lips as she jumped onto the final step; she felt it give way beneath her. She gasped in pain as her leg fell through, her other twisting painfully.

"Deryne!" she heard Cadel yell, and bit her lip to silence herself. Inar was at her side first.

"Are you alright?" he asked lowly. Too shocked to speak, she only looked into his dark blue eyes and nodded. Slowly, she looked down and grimaced. She had fallen through the step, and the sharp, splinter-filled wood had scraped her entire right leg, which now bled profusely. Hot, sticky blood ran down her leg.

"I-_ow_," she said loudly as she shifted, trying to free herself. "That hurts." Cadel came up on her other side. Deryne glanced around, grateful that no one was there except for them.

"Grab her arm, Inar," he ordered the other boy, grabbing Deryne's other one.

"Broakhale! What's this racket?" Ezeko strode out from around the back of the shed; Deryne winced, though she was not sure if it was because of the splitting pain in her injured leg or the stare of the training master. "Queenscove? Breaking property already?"

"She fell through, sir," Inar said in his deep voice as he tucked Deryne's arm around his shoulder. "Come on. Stand on that leg-" A hiss of pain escaped the girl's lips as he and Cadel hauled her up onto the step. Tears came to her eyes.

"I think I twisted my ankle," she whispered roughly.

"Hmph. I hadn't thought you could be _that_ heavy," the sergeant said, looking Deryne's thin, wiry frame over. Deryne was not sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. Her face felt hot; she wanted to curl up in a hole and never come back out again. Surely haMinch would hear of this, and then the rest of the conservatives…. Her reasonable mind told her she had nothing to be ashamed of, but she preferred to lie low beneath the notice of gossipers. "Ferensfell, Broakhale, help her to the healer's wing. Make certain that ain't broke. I don't want any criers tomorrow when we start riding."

"Yes, sir," Cadel said lowly as the sergeant walked away. "C'mon, Deryne. The faster we go, the sooner we eat." He paused for a moment, frowning. "Can you heal it yourself? With your Gift, I mean?" Deryne shook her head.

"My Gift is bound," she said lowly. "It- has been acting oddly lately. Just to be safe, I keep it under wraps. I don't use it, not for anything but very small, simple spells, unless I'm with Master Numair." Cadel sighed.

"Right then. To Uncle's, we go."

* * *

"A day, Deryne," Nealean of Queenscove fretted as he inspected her leg. "Gods, a _day_, and I have Cadel and Ferensfell lugging you in here…." He grimaced at the small pieces of wood lodged in her torn skin. "How could you have _possibly _managed this?" Sitting comfortably in a chair, Deryne rolled her eyes when her father was not looking. Cadel and Inar had left her there when it was apparent that her father would be interrogating anyone he could speak to about the accident. It had taken a few minutes for Deryne to calm her father down enough to assure him that she was fine, despite the blood staining her woolen breeches. 

"I fell, Da," she answered carelessly. Her father snorted.

"Did you know that that particular time-honored lie has been used by not just your Aunt Kel, but me, as well?" he asked dryly. "That can't fool me. Did some fourth year go and run a scythe down your leg and toss wood shavings at you? Because, frankly, I don't know how else-" Deryne laughed ruefully.

"I see why you don't believe me, but I really _did_ fall," she said lightly. "Through a step." Neal looked at his daughter incredulously as she explained.

"You're too small to break a step." Deryne smiled wryly.

"That's what Sergeant Ezeko said," she replied. "He probably stomped a wee too hard on it one too many times, and that weakened it just enough to break and injure me when I stepped on it." Neal shook his head.

"Highly improbable," he said in a clinical, disapproving tone. Leaning back in her seat, Deryne sighed, her gaze listlessly falling onto the sunrays pouring in thorugh a nearby window.

"That's what I think, too," she said softly. "But it happened."

"Well, at least this is an easy enough fix." Deryne's father placed a glowing, green hand on her ankle, and his Gift flowed freely up Deryne's leg, turning all her sores cold before sealing them and making the splinters fall away. In a moment, Deryne was able to move as freely as ever. "Just be careful with the ankle for a few days. It will hold, as long as you don't twist it again." Deryne jumped up and smiled at her father.

"Thanks," she said affectionately, kissing him on the cheek. "I _really _need to take a bath now, before lunch." Neal watched her gravely, his green eyes wary.

"Be careful-" Deryne's teeth flashed in a grin.

"You worry too much," she laughed as she opened the door. "I always am." Neal frowned.

"Yes, but-" She was already gone. Neal smiled ruefully after his daughter. He could not help but be worried.

After all, she was too much like him- and her mother- for comfort.

* * *

Cadel stretched idly in his rooms, his practice sword on his bed. He rose slowly, his wet hair falling into his face as he stood. He shook it out of his eyes, then looked up on the wall, where a glaive- a Yamani weapon- was hung. His mother, who liked the glaive as much as if not more than the sword, had taught both him and his sisters the sword dances in earlier years. It was usually used by women, but Cadel had not been troubled by that. 

Vanora, his younger sister by five winters, had proven herself quite skilled at it. He had not touched it in months; Vanora could probably easily beat him with it now…. Now, he stepped up on the chair by his desk and grabbed the weapon, taking it off of its rack gingerly. Slowly, he stepped back down onto the floor, shifting the five foot staff cautiously to ensure that he did not smack himself with the foot and a half long blade at its end. He knew that the blade was dull, but he still did not want to chance nicking himself. Feeling awkward, he cut downwards in a butterfly swoop, whipping the glaive up sharply as he counted steadily in his mind. His motions were unsure and measured, but he managed to reach an acceptable pace after half an hour or so.

Smiling with satisfaction, he put the Yamani weapon away and headed down to the mess.

Deryne still had not arrived when he sat down next to Laun. Cadel smiled at him briefly; Laun was scowling. Evrain looked grim, too. Cadel frowned.

"What?"

"Guess who's here," Laun muttered in a dangerous voice. Cadel's hazel eyes flickered around the table; only the boys who usually sat with them sat there. Aloin, Mequen, and the other first years eyed the older pages curiously. At the end of the table, Inar steadily ate away at his food. "Not there, stupid." Cadel glared at Laun; what was his problem?

"Can you enlighten me, Ev?" he asked, turning to the red-headed boy. Evrain's eyes narrowed; he jerked his head at the head table.

Turning, Cadel saw that haMinch and Ezeko were not the only ones sitting there. Two others were there-

The first was a knight dressed in casual, training yard clothes. He talked urgently with haMinch, his face set. The second-

It took Cadel a moment to recognize him. His skin was darker, and his build more muscular, but there was no mistaking him, no mistaking the smirk that curved his full lips as his eyes locked with Cadel's. Slowly, Tynen of Kasem turned to his knight master and spoke to him for a quick moment. Then the squire rose, bowed to the three men at the table, and- tossing one last sneer Cadel's way- left the hall.

"Damn," Cadel said lowly. Then he swore again, more feverently. "Deryne's in for it now."

* * *

Hastily, Deryne made her way to the women's bathhouse and bathed swiftly, refusing any help from servants politely. There would be no time for lunch now- When she had finished, she dried herself and pulled her formal page uniform. She was starving, and hopefully- if she left for the kitchens now- she could beg a few pasties from one of the cooks- 

"Hey, Queenscove!" Whipping around, Deryne smiled at the trio of fourth years; she still did not know their names, but they were familiar. "Why are you late?"

"Accident," she replied easily. The tallest of the three stepped forwards, grinning.

"On your first day, eh?" Something about his smile made her feel odd…. She shifted uneasily. "I'd think that you would be having second thoughts 'bout this. I would, my first day-"

Deryne's hairs stood on the back of her neck as a breeze tickled her bare skin gently; her senses alerted, she whipped around and ducked as a punch headed for her head. Someone had been sneaking up behind her.

She yelled; one of the pages she had turned her back on came up from behind her and grabbed her. Another grabbed her right hand. Swiftly, her other hand's fingers slid to her attacker and pinched the vulnerable skin between forefinger and thumb. She was rewarded with a howl of pain. Then the others grabbed her fists, and she managed to catch a glimpse of the one who had snuck up behind her.

She had never seen him before; the young man was tall, his long hair pulled back with a sweeping elegance. His sharp features would have been handsome if it had not been for the dark hollows beneath his dark eyes that betrayed a loss of sleep and the sneer contorting his face.

"A girl, hmm?" he asked lowly as his friends held her tightly. "I'm gone for a few months, and look what happens. I suppose we're just going to have to remedy that." She struggled, but realized that she had failed to escape quick enough. She was trapped.

* * *

_That didn't take long, did it? Dun-dun-da! Write u next week! ;D_


	6. Chapter 5: Thoughts that Should Not Be H

AN: Ahhh! Why don't italics and bolding work?!! Sorry about the delay- I've started b-ball and my life is just kinda crazy right now. But here it is- thanks to all who reviewed; Elana, SarahE7191, PrincessSolaria, abyssgirl, sarralynsalmalin, Heiress of Lohaust, and Pie of Doomeh! And a shout out to Kyrie of Accender, my beta! And here you are-

* * *

Recount: Deryne's hairs stood on the back of her neck as a breeze tickled her bare skin gently; her senses alerted, she whipped around and ducked as a punch headed for her head. Someone had been sneaking up behind her. 

She yelled; one of the pages she had turned her back on came up from behind her and grabbed her. Another grabbed her right hand. Swiftly, her other hand's fingers slid to her attacker and pinched the vulnerable skin between forefinger and thumb. She was rewarded with a howl of pain. Then the others grabbed her fists, and she managed to catch a glimpse of the one who had snuck up behind her.

She had never seen him before; the young man was tall, his long hair pulled back with a sweeping elegance. His sharp features would have been handsome if it had not been for the dark hollows beneath his dark eyes that betrayed a loss of sleep and the sneer contorting his face.

"A girl, hmm?" he asked lowly as his friends held her tightly. "I'm gone for a few months, and look what happens. I suppose we're just going to have to remedy that." She struggled, but realized that she had failed to escape quick enough. She was trapped.

* * *

_Chapter Five_

_Thoughts That Should Not Be Heard_

Slowly, she relaxed, letting them think she had entirely given up as she eyed the young man before her. He looked slightly older than them, perhaps-

The unknown boy struck her; a cry of shock escaped her lips at the unfair, unexpected blow. She sucked in a harsh breath as her head snapped to the side. She grimaced, anger brewing slowly in her veins.

"Yeah, I'll have a bruise tomorrow," she said lowly, glaring into the black eyes. "What kind of coward are you, hitting a girl who's held back by your mates?" She silently berated herself for the mockery. _That _should not have been said aloud. A gleam entered his eyes; she should know better than to incite someone who had complete control of her-

"Maybe I should break your jaw, then, if you don't think that did enough damage," the boy replied coolly. Deryne growled softly. Arrogance_ and_ complete control-

Except she had her Gift. Her eyes widened slightly. She was an idiot, for not thinking of that sooner!

Then again, she hardly knew what to do-! After all, Master Numair had impressed the importance of learning incantations and spells before attempting to do them without any sort of prompt. Powerful mages- such as herself and Rikash- would someday no longer need them, but for now she had to use them…

Besides, there was a reason she rarely used her magic. It was… unusual and tended to be a distraction. Master Numair had taught her how to block out her power, but- if she broke the barrier with a strong spell- she would not be able to put it back up without him.

But since she was cornered, she would have to improvise.

_Sorry, Master Salmalin, _she thought ruefully as she called up her Gift.

Usually, she would consider using magic cheating, but this was certainly very unfair for her, from every angle-

Time to even up the odds. Closing her eyes, she exhaled slowly, trying to calm herself down. Otherwise, the boys might end up hurt, hurt enough for haMinch to throw her out-

"You listening, girl?" The punch to the stomach winded her; gasping, she bent over. There was no way she could summon her Gift like this! Her control was unsteady as it was; her Gift was volatile, though more manageable than Rikash's. "Good." He cleared his throat. "You know, I've always thought there was only one thing women were good for-"

Alarm spread through Deryne as she felt him fumbling with her shirt. Horror shot through her veins, then cold fear.

Frantically, she tore her arm out of the pages' grips, then shoved the young man back. As her hand connected with his chest, an icy wind ripped through the hall, and a chill rushed through her, heightening every thought, every sight.

_Damn,_she thought ruefully at the familiar sensations, even though she wasn't _too_sorry-

Pale blue light snaked out through her arm, slamming into the boys, forcing them backwards to the ground as a fierce whirlwind spun around Deryne, pulling at her hair and clothes, making her eyes tear. Gasping, she looked around desperately as they eyed her warily. But the young, dark-haired young man seemed inclined to finish what he had started, freak wind or not-

Turning her back to them, Deryne ran, her mind cold, their laughter and jeers ringing in her ears as she fled.

_Stupid,_she berated herself, feeling her control on her Gift slip; the sudden gust of wind blew out the flames of the torches along the hall.

Her Gift was strange, like Rikash's; she feared that one day she would wake to find it as fickle as his. She could sense things around her, could feel them as though she were the air surrounding them- She could hear things, whispered from far away, if she tried to focus- And then there were the gusts of wind that she could summon as easily as breathing-

But her teacher had long ago put limits on the Gift for her, limits that would protect her. Still, whenever she accidentally lost her hold on the magic, it would stir without her consent at every thought that came to mind.

What she had done to those pages and their friend, she had not meant to do; she had been trying to protect herself. But her combined fear and anger had been enough for her power to slip from the bounds she restricted it to. Now she would have to go to Master Numair and explain and have to rebind-

The idea of confiding what had just happened in anyone- even an old family friend- no, _especially_ an old family friend- made her blush with shame. If she had only been paying closer attention, if she had been faster changing, if she had not taken a bath, if she had not gone to the healers' wing, if she had not fallen through the damned step in the first place-!

Now, though, that she _was _paying attention, she could enjoy her Gift as she was unable to when it was tightly wrapped under her control. It was cruel and painful when she was in a crowded room. Now, in the empty corridor, it flowed freely in and out of her thoughts, bringing soft whispers of what it sensed in the air around her; voices, motions… everything was brought to her attention.

Including the person behind her.

Without thinking, she spun around, bending down into a defensive crouch as she glared at-

"Rikash?" The boy's eyebrows rose at the sight of her, and the smile and cynical retort forming on his lips faded instantly. Then his amber eyes narrowed dangerously; Deryne could almost see the glitter of his Gift in them. Slowly, she stood up again, aware of what a mess she must look- her uniform askew, her hair mussed-

"Who?" His words were flat. Catching the subtle signs of his surly temper, Deryne tried to play innocent.

"Who what?" she queried, frowning with a puzzled air. Rikash's scowl deepened.

"I'm no fool," he said sharply. "You can't trick me, not when our Gifts are so alike." He scanned her face shrewdly. "You've lost control. I can tell that by-" He jerked his head at the visible zephyrs brushing her skin, ruffling her clothes. "Is this the first time?" Grimacing, Deryne nodded. This, at least, Rikash would understand. His smile was bitter and rueful. "That makes me feel a_little _better. For every thousand times I lose it, you ruin your hold on your Gift _once_.

"And someone would have had to upset you greatly for that to happen, while I can lose my temper when someone looks at me the wrong way." Deryne watched the floor carefully. She had the oddest feeling, as if he would be able to read her thoughts if she looked at him. "Which makes _me _feel like certain folk have been expressing opinions in an unacceptable way."

"They paid for it," she said softly, trying to sound cheerful. Rikash obviously did not believe her; he always doubted whatever she told him. He once told her she was too good a liar to ever be trusted. His look darkened.

"Just given me the names, Deryne," he said, his voice dangerously soft. Though she was avoiding his gaze, she could easily sense the power gathering in his veins.

"I would fear for their lives," she said lightly, trying to sound teasing.

"Maybe it's time for them to realize that heckling you because you're a girl isn't a good idea," Rikash growled.

"And would that help?" Deryne challenged. "If you burnt them to a crisp for me?" Rikash's fingertips began to glow a reddish gold; not good.

"I wouldn't kill them," he said lowly, his words quickening as he continued. "What do you think of me, to say that? Do you think that reading about arcane magic will corrupt me, make me a crazy sorcerer in some way? Do you think I'm a-" Hastily, Deryne cut him off; she could still remember the one and only time both of them had left their Gifts uncontrolled in each other's presence- the results had not been pleasant. And if Rikash continued this line of thought, his control would snap like a twig.

"I _think_ that you can have a hard time controlling it, like _now_," she pointed out, shooting him a look. "And that you _have _enough power to do something like that, even if you wouldn't. You say yourself that your Gift breaks out of your hold all the time."

Instantly, Rikash deflated; the glow on his skin and glitter in his eyes disappeared as his gaze fell to the floor.

"So you _only _mean that I _can _kill people?" He sounded dull, disheartened… and there was the softest, pained undertone beneath it. About to protest, Deryne stopped herself. Though she would never say it so harshly, that _was_, essentially, what she had meant. "It's fine," he said abruptly, seeing the remorse in the girl's face. "I suppose that's just a way to make everyone else even more jumpy around me, hmm?"

"If you want to look at it like that," Deryne mumbled, disliking his gloom.

"So will you tell me now?" Smiling, Rikash held up his hands. "See? No loss of temper here." Deryne shook her head.

"I just need your father to put the bind back before I go back to that large group in class; you know what happens otherwise." Rikash's face twisted in sympathy.

"You're going to have to go through class without the bind, I'm afraid," he said quietly. "Da wanted me to tell you that he is gone for the day, but that haMinch has agreed for your Gifted lessons to continue late, starting tonight." Deryne groaned loudly.

"Wonderful," she grumbled. "Me and a thousand little voices in my head, all fighting over whose head it is." Rikash smiled thinly.

"You've managed before," he reminded her. Her eyebrows rose.

"Not with this many people. Not people I don't know. Not people I don't even _want _to know," Deryne pointed out testily.

"I'm certain Da will love to hear of this experiment tonight." She made a face at him.

"If he gets back sooner, make sure you send him to help me," she warned. "Otherwise you _will _regret it."

As she neared the room, Deryne winced. It was already beginning.

Her Gift picked up motions, talk, even the occasional thought- and then decided to dump them all into her head. The mutters of all the pages already filled her mind as she wandered in, just as the first bell of the afternoon rang.

_"Gods, we _never _start on time. Why can't he ever-"_

_"Knowing him, we'll have essays due tomorrow, wretched man-"_

_Someone shook his head, his thin curls bouncing nearly unperceivable…. Someone whirled around, uncrossed his legs-_

_"There she is! Thank the Gods, if she had been late-!"_

_"She's late… damn, not quite-" _

_"So tired… becoming a page was a mistake…" _

Dull eyed, Deryne made her way to a seat next to Cadel. She plopped down heavily, earning a frown from the instructor that she sensed through her Gift, since she could hardly look up with all the sensations and whispers cramming her mind-

_"The only thing worse than mathematics is history… except that Myles is such an odd man, which makes it a little more interesting when he starts mumbling… ancient, doddering old-"_

The only thing worse than this, hearing and feeling words and movements that she had no right to sense, was when she looked up and watched as this information filtered through her. She knew, if she glanced up, that she would be able to identify every boy's thoughts and distinguish every single one of their motions, only by the subtle patterns that her Gift showed in her mind. Indeed, as she felt someone twiddle his fingers, she could see a glowing, blue swirl near Laun out of the corner of her eye that indicated that he was the source of the action. Biting her lip, she firmly rested her head in her arms, and shut her eyes tightly, willing the magic to leave her alone.

_Already exhausted… humph, there's no reason for that. I should have expected it from a girl- _

Sharply, she looked up at the teacher, who was frowning with disapproval. She sighed inwardly at the wisps of blue around him. Already she had ruined a teacher's good opinion. She vowed to tell Rikash all she knew about the pages who had held her down for this. Or maybe she could do something to them herself….

_Dead-_The word played in her thoughts for a moment before she thrust it out with the rest of the voices streaming into her head.

_So she made it. _

This voice was unusually menacing, even in mind speech, that Deryne's gaze drifted over to where her Gift had been glimmering. Her mouth fell open. Cadel leaned closer to whisper in her ear. A familiar, taunting expression of disdain looked her way. Her heart dropped.

"That's Tynen of Kasem, cousin. Be careful."

"You didn't have to tell me that," she said lowly, her blue eyes wide. The other page looked at her oddly for a moment, but she did not answer.

_He_ was the unknown young man. The one who had-

She was in trouble. Big trouble.

* * *

Tynen of Kasem had left with his knight master at the end of last summer, and- since Sir Jaspen was often abroad for years- Cadel and the others had hoped that they would stay _far _away until Kasem's Ordeal. However, the fates had decided to pull their tricks and- only a few months later- Sir Jaspen was injured fighting spidrens, which left Kasem to the care of haMinch once again. 

And the training master- being the brilliant conservative he was- had decided to allow Kasem to assist him in the page training.

"This… is not good," Evrain summed up lamely at dinner, glaring darkly at the head table where Kasem was speaking with haMinch. "No doubt striving to see if he can give us _all _the boot." Cadel glared at Evrain. "What?" The boy jerked his head towards his cousin, and Evrain fell silent. Deryne had been quietly eyeing Kasem all day, from the moment they laid eyes on him in arithmetic earlier in the afternoon. Her pale, ghostly blue eyes- usually sparkling with laughter- were listless and far away, her narrow, small face visibly disturbed.

"Deryne?" he asked softly. The girl blinked, then turned to him, a feckless grin crossing her face.

"Yeah?" she asked brightly.

"Are you-"

"Quite alright," she finished, her voice firm. Cadel's eyebrows rose. She snorted. "Don't do that."

"It was completely unintentional," he replied mildly. "Completely involuntary. Which means you're lying through your teeth." Deryne looked mildly amused.

"Of course not," she said sweetly. "Rikash has always said I was the best liar he ever met." Her lips twitched; Cadel reconsidered his sudden suspicions. "Do I look… not alright?"

"Now you're trying to convince me," he muttered. "It's not fair." Deryne's smile faltered; it became fixed.

"A lot isn't," she said softly before stuffing a piece of bread in her mouth. "Best to get used to it-"

"You already ran into them," Mequen said shortly. Both Deryne and Cadel turned to the other boy, startled. He smiled at Deryne wryly, then tapped the side of his face. "Bruise," he remarked shortly. Without a thought, Deryne reached up to touch the indicated area gingerly. She pressed lightly, then sucked a deep breath in; it hurt.

"I whacked my head on the side of my bed before I came down," she said lightly.

"I doubt it," Cadel said tiredly, rubbing his eyes wearily. This was too much; Kasem already bullying her…? How would they survive the year without assaulting the training master's assistant?

"Please." She rolled her eyes. "I would just say that I fell down if I meant to cover up a fight." Evrain snorted.

"Alright, lads," he drawled. "Deryne has just upset an ancient tradition. Aside from the one that says only men are knights," he added, casting an amused gaze at Laun. He cleared his throat and said, in a clear, solemn voice, "From this moment on, the excuse for the bruises from fighting is that one has hit themselves on one's bed." Then a wicked glint entered his eyes, one that meant an off-colored jest was in the making; hastily, Cadel spoke before the dirt joke could be announced to the entire table.

"He left the hall before we did; he and some of his friends found you?" Deryne was glaring at him now; encouraged, her cousin continued doggedly. "You would've fought like a hellcat, and there'd be a lot more visible damage on Kasem if he had been alone…. Some of his old friends? Snuck up behind you? Who?" He scanned the group of pages, trying to spot any visible signs of damage. Deryne's jaw was set grimly; she had given up with her fib.

"Let it be, Cadel," she ordered frostily, her eyes flashing. Cadel felt the hairs on his skin rise. Suddenly suspicious, he scrutinized her sharply, and was rewarded with the sight of a subtle stir of the wind around her. A small exclamation escaped him.

"That bastard!" He scowled. "How many of them did it take to set off your Gift? What did they do to-"

"Stop there, Broakhale," Deryne said harshly, standing. The stool she had sat on went skidding. Cadel's eyes only widened; had she _ever_ called him by his fief name? With a dark glance around the table, she leaned down to whisper in his ear. "I can hear every damn word leaving your head," she hissed lowly so that no one else would hear, reminding him of her Gifted skill. Cadel grimaced, then furrowed his brow. Master Numair had taught him the technique to blocking his thoughts from her idle power, though his barriers would never stand up if she _wanted _to know what he thought. Swiftly, he closed his eyes and put up the walls between his mind and the rest of the world.

When he looked up, Deryne was gone. Swearing, he began to stand, but Evrain tugged on his sleeve, plopping him firmly back into his seat.

"Lemme go," Cadel said lowly, looking back up at the mess hall entrance.

"Not now. Owl Eyes looks like he's ready for a speech." Cursing haMinch fervently, Cadel grumbled and crossed his arms.

"About what?" Aloin asked, speaking up for the first time since Deryne had arrived. Laun opened his mouth to talk, but then the training master rose and signaled for quiet.

"As I am certain you know," the man said in a crisp voice that reached the furthest table's ears. "Squire Tynen of Kasem will be assisting me in training. Any trouble you have-"

"-is likely to be his fault," Cadel muttered under his breath. He did not hate Kasem for how the squire had tormented him, but he feared what the other boy might do to Deryne.

"-can be reported to him. I hope that he can bring his experience in the field killing immortals to the training yards to help the rest of you. After all, that is what knights are expected to do; help each other. Kasem?" The handsome young man stood and nodded to haMinch, then the hall.

"Thank you, my lord," he said loudly. "I hope to help you all. To protect and preserve the ancient traditions held by our _fathers _is an honor that any real man would be delighted to uphold-"

"No mention of the woman who whelped him, eh?" Evrain muttered.

"Just as well; she might die of shame, hearing him talk like that," Cadel said, biting his lip. Then he tuned out to the voice; he doubted he would be able to control himself, listening to the spiteful boy insult all the work of his mother and cousin.

* * *

There was a knock at Deryne's door. She tensed, her fists clenched tightly. She debated letting whoever it was leave, then rose from her bed to unbolt the door. Hesitantly, she cracked it open to peek out. 

Seeing only Inar, she sighed heavily and pulled the door open all the way.

"Hello," she said wearily. He smiled briefly.

"Rikash sent me. He told me that you were to join us, for the night lessons." She frowned. "I'm the only fourth year with the Gift, so haMinch has me practice with Master Numair later in the evening," he explained.

"Oh," the girl said weakly. "Great- just let me-" Then her eyes narrowed slightly; there was no glimmer of her Gift around him, no thoughts streaming through her head. "You know how to seal your mind?" she asked, curious and pleasantly surprised. Inar's eyebrows rose with surprise.

"You were prying?" he asked, confusion in his blue eyes. "Not that I would think-"

"Not intentionally," Deryne said abruptly, stepping outside to lock her door. "You might as well know, if you're going to be working with us. I can sense thoughts," she declared brusquely. Inar grimaced with distaste.

"That must be a headache. Well, you won't get any from me," he promised. Deryne smiled faintly.

"That's a relief," she admitted as they began walking. "Usually I have a bind on my power, to keep me from sensing so much…." Her face darkened. "But it broke today."

"Ah," was all she got from the young man. An awkward silence lay between them for a few long moments. "I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"Don't be," Deryne replied absently, seeing Kasem's sneer in her mind. "What would you have done? Gotten us all in more trouble." Then she winced; were the unwelcome thoughts bouncing about in her head making her less closed-mouthed? Her thoughts were _not_ ones to be shared….

"I will not leave you alone like that again," he said lowly. "It should not have happened. Not that Cadel and the others won't be shadowing you from now on." Deryne sniffed, wondering why she felt more comfortable telling Inar than Cadel. Perhaps it was because they were alone. She would have been telling Cadel _plus_ all eavesdroppers in the mess.

"Three of his mates distracted me until he snuck up behind me," she said. There, it was done. Now that she had started, she could notstop. She forced the words out of her mouth. "I heard him, but it was too late." A soft laugh escaped her. "That's what I get for not staying in tune with my Gift." She sighed heavily, her fingers trailing behind them against the stone walls of the passageway. "It's just so hard… so hard to control… and so much easier to avoid using."

"A Gift is meant to be used," Inar said in his deep voice. Deryne made a face.

"I can't tell you how many times I've heard that before," she remarked dryly.

"What did Kasem do?" With Cadel and Rikash, the question was a loaded one, its speaker seething with anger. With Inar, it was only a simple question. Still- Deryne's face heated up at the thought.

"He- um…." Swiftly, she tugged at her shirt, then let go, looking away from the older boy. "That. Nothing more, though," she said quickly, her face now hot. She heard a sharp intake of breath and felt miserable; she had been overreacting, hadn't she? "Nothing, really. My Gift slammed them all fair hard after that." She carefully studied the wall, waiting for Inar to speak again. She did not have to wait long.

"That is _not _nothing," Inar said in a low, icy voice. "Tynen of Kasem ought to know better. A _great _deal better." Uncomfortable, Deryne shrugged, aware that he was watching her.

"Please don't say anything," she whispered, rubbing her arm unconsciously. "I- I'll just-"

"If you insist," he said in a voice that said he would rather not.

"HaMinch would hate me!"

"Not that he already doesn't." Deryne grimaced, rubbing her face.

"But such a fuss! And you know what the conservatives would say!"

"That you had seduced him, encouraged him…." He sighed. "Her Majesty would not tolerate such behavior on their part. Neither would your mother, your aunt- there are so many who would help you, support you-" Shame-faced, Deryne shook her head.

"Forget I told you." They walked on a little more in silence.

"If it's any comfort to you," Inar said, voice awkward. "I think he only meant to scare you; not to do anything-"

"He succeeded," the girl replied grimly. They had reached Master Numair's study. Stopping, the girl looked up seriously at Inar of Ferensfell. His face was grim. "But not a word. Swear?" His jaw clenched.

"I don't like it," he said lowly. But he nodded. Deryne sighed with relief.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"You shouldn't keep quiet. I-" But he fell silent as Rikash yanked open the door, his eyes alight.

"She- they're here!" he called. Behind him, Master Numair Salmalin sat huddled over a few dozen papers on his desk. "Finally! We can show someone else the whirlwind!"

"Not yet, Rikash," Numair said cautiously, eyeing the trio. "First, some parameters. Protective, to hold your magics… how were your classes, with your Gift awake?" he asked Deryne abruptly. As she grinned at him, she realized that talking with Inar had relieved her worries; now he knew. He would not forget. And he would never leave her to face Kasem and his friends again, she was certain.

"Hello, Master Numair," she said cheekily. "I know _you're_ too important and busy for a simple greeting, but simple folk like me enjoy a greeting now and then-" He stared at her gravely, then chuckled.

"Hello, Deryne." He waited a moment, then raised his eyebrows. "_Now_, how-"

"All my teachers despise me now. Don't argue," she told him, smirking wryly. "Remember? I _know_." She tapped her head. "At least I didn't have to survive the training yard with this."

"I think you're an idiot," Rikash said bluntly, settling down into one of the cushioned chairs the pages were not permitted to use during class. "All those restraints? Even more than I put…. And your power is so-"

"Only because her troubles are far worse if her control breaks," Numair pointed out. "You only blast everything within reach. _Deryne_ could drive herself insane, if she does not learn to sort through the magic." Rikash snorted.

"You try torching everything you touch. Unintentionally. See how far you get. I can promise you it drives you crazy rather quickly." Deryne winced as Numair's eyes narrowed at the impudence.

"I expect more respect from my son and student." Rikash glanced up at his stern father.

"Sorry," he grunted. Numair turned from him, smiling broadly at the other two, who had been watching the far corners of the room studiously.

"I thought that we could all try to help you establish your own order up there," he said cheerfully. "We could all send thoughts towards you, and you could try to drown all but one thought out. Then we could do the same with motions."

"Motions?" Inar asked, frowning with puzzlement.

"She senses movement, too," Numair explained. Inar looked impressed.

"That could be _really _useful," he said, voice excited. His eyes glowed with a sudden light. "She could sense her enemies around her; she would be able to fight without looking! What an asset-!" Deryne's mouth fell open; how had she never though of that herself! If she could control her magic, she could feel every hostile motion, every attack from every opponent- She would be unstoppable!

And Kasem would _never _be able to touch her again…. Clearing his throat, Inar looked back at Numair and bowed. "Sorry, sir." Numair smiled.

"Precisely what I had been thinking, Ferensfell," he said lowly. "But it would take a phenomenal deal of discipline and practice." He turned to Deryne, one eyebrow cocked in question.

"I'll do it," she said lowly, her solemn eyes locked with Numair's, her mind buzzing. "Tell me what to do, and I will do it. I swear I will..."

* * *

AN: And... there you are. Kasem is a bastard, and Deryne's left with a cool new power to master... Hope you enjoyed-

* * *


	7. Chapter 6: An Intruder

_AN: I am VERY sorry about this- it seems I only have time to write during the weekends, which means my chapters might not be posted until Sundays...Thanks for putting up with me (so far AND in advance). I AM still aiming for once a week, and once the break comes (I LOVE Christmas!!!) I can type up a few. Hopefully. Thank yous to my reviewers, **SarahE7191**, **Heiress of Lohaust**, **sarralynsalmalin**, **cahawk**, **Pie of Doomeh**, and the anonymous reviewer. I am very grateful for any kind of feedback and- if you tell me your likes and dislike- I can figure out how to work out the rest of this to your satisfaction, ie put in more humor or sommat. Here you are (these chapters are on the long side, so I hope they're worth the wait)-_

* * *

_Chapter Six_

_An Intruder_

_November 29__th__, 476_

"I can't do it!" Deryne ranted. "By the Gods, how am I supposed to control it?" Rikash watched his friend with dry amusement. He could sympathize with her, but it was odd to watch _her_ rage, when she was usually the cheerful one listening to _him_-

"Frustrating, isn't it?" he asked quietly. Deryne let out a low growl of frustration.

"This is why I held it back!" she retorted. "Noises and movements and thoughts all running through my head as though they have nowhere else to be!" She grimaced. "Better to have no power. I can't even _limit _it. I can't pick out what I don't want, let alone _find_ what I do."

"Practice," he said. "Believe me, it's taken a great deal-" Flexing his hand, he frowned slightly, glaring at it in concentration.

_Go, _he willed firmly, and- as he bore down on his magic with his will- a stream of fire kindled in his hand, whipped around his arm, and disappeared as fast as it had come. He looked back at Deryne. She looked dazed by the sudden light, gazing at his fingertips. He smiled slightly. "Just to do that. And I _still _have to _really _think about it." Deryne sighed, still glum; Rikash scowled. What did it take to comfort her? Did she want him to knock her off onto her stubborn head? But he hid his impatience swiftly as she glanced up. The corners of her lips twitched; she saw right through him. As per usual. Giving up his attempt to be kind, he shot a dark glare at her.

"If you don't cheer up, I'll tell haMinch you make faces behind his back." Deryne snorted indelicately, and Rikash's heart lightened. Maybe his da was wrong. Maybe threats _did_work.

"I'm fair certain he already knows. But tell him, if you like. I couldn't care a whit. The one that concerns me is Kasem." Rikash's smile faltered. Kasem. He hated the name. Between them, Cadel and he had decided that Kasem had been the one who had bothered Deryne all those weeks ago. Ever since then, the apprentice mage had walked back to Deryne's rooms with her when their friends were otherwise occupied. No squire would dare trouble him. But it seemed that Kasem was content with heckling her underneath haMinch's nose, and the training master was fine with allowing the older boy to bully her. Evrain had nearly hit him once already; it had taken the efforts of Cadel, Deryne, and Inar combined to drag him away, and excitable Aloin was always ready for a fight. Meanwhile, Laun calmly observed the entire scene before him without a blink. Though he did not mention it to anyone, Rikash feared that the page- one time comrade with Cadel- was drifting towards Kasem's line of thinking. If only for Cadel's sake, he hoped otherwise. But common sense betrayed any daydream.

"What has he done now?" he asked sharply. Deryne shrugged nonchalantly.

"Kept me scrubbing floors for a bell because I apparently missed a spot brushing Zephyr," she replied, referring to her gray gelding. Rikash's eyebrows rose.

"Zeph is a rather vain horse," he said sardonically. "I would doubt that he would let you out of the stall if you had missed a few hairs." Deryne laughed hollowly

"Tell that to Kasem."

"I have a mind to," he mumbled lowly as they reached Deryne's door. "Not really!" he amended hastily at Deryne's horrified face. "A jest, Deryne!" A hand on the door handle, she scrutinized him for a long moment.

"Somehow I doubt it," she said softly. "Don't cause trouble, Rikash." He smiled at her ruefully.

"Don't worry yourself. I can take care of myself." She smirked, her eyes twinkling.

"That's right. You're a big lad now, ain'tcha?" she drawled, her smile mischievous. "Good sleep to you, Ri." Once she had locked herself inside, Rikash turned away, his smile fading. He glanced at the flickering torchlight; the flame was nearly gone. His fingers itched with an indescribable need; he raised his hand up to touch it-

The piece of wood exploded into flames, the heat searing his skin. He sucked in a harsh breath, glaring at the ashes falling from the metal bracket to the dark floor. Small orange embers glowed in the blackness. Rikash grinded his teeth.

"Right, then," he said lowly. "Under control, my damned foot." Then, face grim, he made his way to his family's rooms, vowing to work harder.

Surely all he needed was more practice. There was nothing he could not master. In time.

* * *

Rikash returned to the library, shutting the door firmly behind him before striding through the shelves. Quietly, he slipped around the bookcases and nearly slammed into- 

"Inar!" he hissed, jumping back. The other boy's eyebrows rose ever so slightly.

"My apologies. I did not mean to alarm you." Feeling slightly defensive, Rikash glared at him.

"Alarm? Humph," he snorted. "More likely, you nearly got torched!"

"Are you that paranoid, then, to set fire to the first person you run into?" Rikash's eyes narrowed; Inar was an all right fellow, but there was a calmness to his words that seemed to mock him. Not to mention that mild stare that unnerved him so much- There was sometimes a void in the northerner's eyes that tended to raise the hairs on his neck.

"No, but my Gift is," he muttered resentfully, hating his discomfort. "If I get surprised, it attacks. Without my consent." Inar's mouth twisted in sympathy; his eyes seemed to focus more deliberately on his.

"Is it truly that out of control?" he murmured, sounding intrigued. Rikash scowled. "Sorry, Rikash. It's just so-"

"Odd." Rikash's mouth curved in a dry smirk. "I hear that quite a bit."

"Very powerful," Inar said softly, watching him. "Fire. A dangerous power."

"You have no idea," the mage apprentice agreed fervently. "I was going to work on a few mediation exercises-"

"Do you mind if I join you?" the page queried. "I would like to refine my own Gift. It can be… difficult… to summon." Inwardly, Rikash sighed. He preferred to be alone; he despised having the shame of owning up to his loss of will. His Gift was too strong for him-

"I have no objection," he lied neatly. Inar gave him a quick, grateful smile. Then Rikash frowned. "Isn't it curfew for you lot? HaMinch would skin you alive-"

"What he doesn't know can hardly hurt him," the boy replied smoothly, a glimmer of humor entering his eyes. Rikash's lips twitched.

"True enough," he admitted.

Inar was an all right mate. As long as he kept his mouth shut. Rikash had long ago determined that the right to heckle him resided with Deryne alone.

And that was only because she refused to stop.

* * *

Deryne stood on a cliff, overlooking the ocean. She could not remember for the life of her how she had gotten there, but she found no interest in the curious fact. She closed her eyes slowly, savoring the feel and smell of the sea breeze. The piercing shriek of a bird of prey echoed through her ears; she knew she could only hear it because of her power. 

_"Find him," _a low, deep voice ordered in her ear. She tried to look to see who it was, but found that she could not open her eyes. _"Stop relying on your vision… trust yourself-" _

Carefully, Deryne reached out with her Gift, ready to pull back at the slightest hint of danger. Slowly, she pushed her mind, thoughts, and feelings- her essence- into her magic, willing it to go forth. Consciously, she felt herself seep through her hands, through her fingertips-

And then, suddenly, she was carried off, away in the air. The cry of the bird was louder-

But even stronger was the sensation of flying. Rippling power coursed through her, wakening feelings she could scarcely describe-

Exhilarated, she soared forwards, able to feel everything- the trees, the animals, the grass on the ground- she could feel every small, green blade bending to her power-

_Keeeeekee!_

Gasping, Deryne shot up in bed, her eyes shooting towards the source of the ear-splitting sound. She swore, nearly falling out of her bed, entangled in her sheets.

A small, hawk-like bird perched on her desk chair, its bright eyes glaring at her hostilely. She groaned.

What next?

She sat still for a few moments, looking the animal over. With a mix of white, gray, and black feathers, it was smaller than the falcons she had seen the falconer train with, but not by much. She had not a clue what it was; birds had never held any interest to her. Gingerly, she rose, stumbling out of bed as she eyed the bird warily. It stared severely at her for another moment, then its head bent as it preened its feathers. Cautiously, Deryne made her way towards it, freezing the moment it looked up. She waved her hands at the bird.

"Shoo!" she ordered lowly. Unimpressed, the intruder only glanced at the open window and then back at her. "Go on!" Emboldened, she took a step forward. "Get outta here!" It still ignored her. She scowled, and flapped her hands at it once more.

No cajoling, threats, or shouts would stir the bird. If she dared to get too close, it would screech loudly at her. After nearly getting bit by it by its dangerous, curved beak, Deryne bit her lip. She would be late if she tried to chase the creature out for any longer. She would have to speak to Daine, Numair's wife. Daine had Wildmagic, a gift she could use to speak with animals. The older woman would certainly be able to sort this out.

Watching the bird carefully, Deryne pulled on her breeches and shirt, managing to button it up before she heard Cadel yell her name through the door.

"Coming!" she yelped, thrusting her boots onto her feet before casting one last dirty look at the bird. For some reason she could not explain, she felt that it was being smug as it flapped its wings at her, as if to say, _shoo. _"You're having better luck than I am getting this room to yourself," she muttered. "And you're a blasted birdie." A small sound of indignation escaped the bird, but Deryne opened the door and slipped outside before it could have any possible chance of retaliation. "Maybe he'll leave," she muttered, fumbling with her key.

"What?" Evrain said, with a grin. "Cadel? I doubt it; I keep closing my eyes and praying to the gods for a miracle, but he's still here." He ducked a good-natured swipe at his head from Cadel. Turning to Cadel, Evrain, Aloin, and Laun, Deryne laughed ruefully.

"No. I seem to have an unexpected visitor." Laun's eyebrows rose.

"A he?" he asked. A lock of blond hair falling into his eyes, Aloin looked up at his sponsor with a frown. He obviously disliked the accusatory tone in Laun's voice. Not wanting any trouble, Deryne smiled prettily at the boy.

"That's right," she said cheerily. "Did you want to meet him?" Cadel and Evrain exchanged glances; they seemed to realize Deryne had a joke in the making. Aloin, on the other hand, looked worried.

"You can't have the door closed!" he squeaked. "HaMinch will have your head!"

"Maybe Laun should go talk to him, then." Deryne sighed. "I tried to make him go… maybe he'll listen to another fine man such as yourself." Laun glared at her as she unlocked her door and stepped away with an elegant bow.

"Go on then, Isanife." Deryne glanced up; somehow, Inar had appeared among their group yet again. He looked amused.

Now suspecting he was the butt of a jest and unable to back out, Laun squared his shoulders and opened the door. He frowned, then stepped inside. Puzzled, Deryne peered in after him; the bird was no longer by her desk. In fact, she did not see it-

Laun stepped out into the middle of the room, obviously bewildered. He rolled his eyes and turned back towards the group in the door. After running his hands through his hair, he shrugged, holding his hands up to the sky.

"Nothing. Is this your idea of a joke, Queen-" One angry shriek ripped through the room; Deryne leapt up in the air as the bird, its wingspan spread out threatening, swept down from above to miss Laun's head by an inch. As an explosion of blue magic- her Gift- shone around the bird to almost blind Deryne, an even louder scream left the boy as he dropped to the floor, his eyes huge. Laun's attacker floated back over to Deryne's chair, where he turned to stare once more at her and her comrades. Mirth drowned any feeling of pity for the page as Deryne glanced at her friends. A snicker escaped Cadel's lips; he was trying very hard not to smile. Evrain was bawling with laughter, while Aloin grinned hesitantly. Inar watched gravely, though his eyes sparkled. Deryne looked at Laun, then shrugged at her cousin.

"I have to say, though, he's growing on me," she told him before they both burst into small chuckles, Laun glaring at them.

* * *

His mother had taught her well, Cadel decided, watching Deryne spar against Laun with the wooden swords haMinch had finally given the first years. He and Evrain had finished their exercises and their final match and were waiting for their other friends to be dismissed by Ezeko. Deryne's brow was furrowed, and she concentrated on her opponent's chest fixedly. 

To haMinch's clear disappointment, she beat Aloin and Garrin easily, and Mequen only made her break a sweat before he too was defeated. She even managed to beat Evrain occasionally. Still, she was trounced every time by her merciless cousin, who saw no reason to hold back with anyone.

He smiled slightly when she managed to smack Laun's sword out of the way. Gripping his wrist, she gripped his hand and forced his fingers open. His sword fell from his grasp, and Deryne flipped the boy over her hip.

"Bad technique, Queenscove," Kasem called from the front of the line of pages as Deryne looked up, a fierce exhilaration radiating from her flushed face and bright eyes. "No finesse. And this isn't hand-to-hand!" Deryne's eyebrows raised fractionally; catching her eye, Cadel shook his head firmly. He could see that she about to call the foolishness of the squire's remark. Frankly, he thought that the training master's assistant was only trying to undermine Deryne.

"Kasem, get back to helping Jesslaw and Yarrowhill!" Ezeko bellowed. "I'll do the scolding!" Striding towards the winded Laun and Deryne, he looked down at her and nodded. "Fast move, Queenscove. Could have been neater, but you'll get there. You and Isanife are dismissed." Grinning with triumph, Deryne bowed respectfully to the man and turned to Laun. She extended her hand to help him up, but the boy lurched up without her assistance. Cadel frowned slightly.

It had taken a moment for his cousin to hold out her hand; Laun could have not seen it-

"You're going to be undefeatable soon," Evrain teased as she strode over, a bounce in her step. Laun stood a few paces away, clearly not coming any closer.

"Except for me," Cadel chuckled. Deryne cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Too brave and manly for me?" she queried, smirking. Cadel lifted an eyebrow in turn at her.

"Of course," he replied, winking. Then he straightened proudly. "I am- oof!" He doubled over as Deryne jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.

"Alright, then, good sir," she declared. "If you're so brave, come and see that bit of magic I told you about." Cadel frowned thoughtfully.

_Drat. I should have seen that coming, _he thought ruefully. For weeks Deryne had been trying to get him to see the so-called 'spell' that she and Rikash had mastered.

"That experiment? The so-called exercise in control? I had forgotten about that," he said, feigning innocence. Deryne grinned.

"Lovely. Rikash should be talking with Sir Myles. We can do it now," she told him. Then- before he could put another word in- she grabbed him and yanked him down the hall. Evrain chuckled, stepping forwards, and the others followed. Even Laun trooped along after Deryne and a protesting, blabbering Cadel.

"Afraid of a little mage trick?" Aloin jibed, his face bright with excitement.

"You didn't have your head singed in _your _last encounter with a 'little mage trick,' as you put it," Cadel pointed out. Deryne laughed.

"Oh, but we've improved!" she remarked brightly. "We would be able to make your head catch fire twice as fast!" Cadel snorted.

"Then how could I possibly refuse a chance for it to happen again?" he queried dryly, allowing his friends to drag him forth in a burst of cheery conversation. "But first shouldn't we deal with your unwelcome visitor, Deryne?" The girl stopped in her tracks. Evrain snorted.

"Good try, mate. But if they're planning on setting your mop of a head on fire, I plan to see it now." But Deryne actually seemed concerned.

"I had forgotten about him," she told them. "It wouldn't hurt to talk to Daine first. I want that beast out-"

"Ha!" Cadel said gloatingly. She grinned.

"But don't think that I'll forget," she told him.

"It's worth a try," he replied, smiling back. "Anything to keep my hair." Deryne glared at him.

"I keep telling you, that was an accident."

"And I'm still telling you, I don't trust you two."

* * *

Daine was only too happy to help. She entered Deryne's room alone, leaving the wary pages watching outside. The bird alighted on her gloved hand, and she stared into his eyes for a long time. 

Deryne sighed, tracing the outline of the stone floor as Daine whispered softly to the creature, bending her head back and forth as she spoke. A moment later, she closed her eyes. She would have lessons with Master Numair later, after dinner….

Her Gift! Suddenly, her dream from the night before struck her with vivid clarity. The ability to feel every sensation around her, the awareness- the intoxicating confidence that gave her strength that would keep her going forever-

Very carefully, she summoned her Gift, trying to recall the exact feeling as it rolled through her veins. A wind stirred around her, one she had not felt a moment before-

She had always been able to summon the wind. Now she listened to everything it gave her; instead of pushing the tide of whispers away, she gathered everything. She could feel Cadel's chest as it rose and fell, Aloin's fingers as they twitched-

Excitement growing in her chest, Deryne sought more, gathering the breezes in her mind as if they were tiny threads on a spindle, threads to be woven into a tapestry. Which was, essentially, what they were. More and more movement came to her; she could almost make out Daine's murmurs as her fingers stroked the bird's glossy feathers-

"Ah, the young lady is listening," sang a soft voice. Her concentration broke; Deryne's Gift slipped out of her grasp and fell back into the depths of her mind. She opened her eyes to see Irnai standing there, her hands on her hips as she surveyed the girl. Deryne grinned.

"How are you?" she asked politely. The woman gave her a bright smile, one not as distant as she tended to be.

"Quite well, Deryne," she replied, using Deryne's name for the first time in years. "The visions have left me alone for now. They will come back- perhaps sudden and soon, but-" Her eyes shone. "I am free for now. The gods give messages to me often, but not now."

"That's good, right?" Aloin asked dubiously. Irnai laughed.

"Yes, 'tis. Wildmage, take care," she called, peering into Deryne's chambers. "Ah, a kestrel!" She nodded firmly at Deryne. "Do take care of him; he will be of assistance someday."

"He isn't mine," the page answered awkwardly. Irnai's eyebrows rose, her expression pleasant.

"Oh, isn't he?" she asked lightly before waving to them all. "I am off to speak to Sir Myles. Something tells me he is in want of company." Then, just as quickly as she had appeared, the seer left them. A long moment went by, in which the kestrel made a soft, soothing noise, as if to silence Deryne and her friends.

"I thought she said the visions were leaving her alone," Aloin remarked, puzzled. He scratched his head.

"Only visions, Aloin. She cannot help but know… other things… instinctively." Daine walked towards them, the bird resting on her arm. "This fine lad is a kestrel, as she said. He was one of the royal birds. I say _was _because he escaped and injured his wing." She sighed. "He may recover, but the falconer will not want him back... I will speak to the man myself.

"But, anyway, he found his way into your room." Her gray eyes glittered with laughter. "And, apparently, he has decided he likes it far too much to leave." Deryne groaned loudly.

"What could a _bird _possibly want to do with me?" Daine smiled.

"You would have to tell me." The kestrel flapped its wing once. "He's hungry." Deryne stared at the woman incredulously.

"And what am I supposed to do?" she asked weakly. Daine grew serious. Her eyes watched the girl carefully, sizing her up.

"I can take him, Deryne," she said softly. "But he wants to stay with you. And if he makes a fuss, this wing might be permanently damaged."

"_Why?_" she asked, throwing her hands up. A soft noise left the kestrel's beak. Its reddish brown eyes bore into hers.

"He says that you need help," Daine replied simply. "Someone needs to take care of you." Evrain snickered quietly. Deryne threw him a filthy glare.

"Just what I need," she muttered. "Another bird-brained boy." Daine raised her eyebrows, and Deryne sighed wearily. "I'll take him."

* * *

_AN: Meant as a more cheery, humorous chapter. I hope it was enjoyable. Humor can be difficult for me- I know what I find funny, but whether or not OTHERS like it..._

_That's the tricky part._


	8. Chapter 7: Doom Falls

_Either the holidays keep people hopping, my new post date sucks, or the story sucks. My apologies if it is either of the latter two. Feel free to tell me if I am right._

_Thanks to my two reviewers, **cahawk **and **SarahE7191**, and to my beta.I know you're busy, Kyr, but I could not do this without you! ;D_

_Come on, guys! I know that SOMEBODY's reading! Can you leave a note? Please? Whatcha thinking about? Great, good, funny, scary, cool, terrible? I'd like to know!  
_

* * *

_Chapter Seven_

_Doom Falls_

Daine's instructions took until lunchtime to relate, so Deryne and her friends were unable to visit Sir Myles and Rikash, to Cadel's immense relief.

"His name is Duskwing," the Wildmage told Deryne. "I have an extra pair of falconer gloves that ought to fit you. You know my children; Sarra used to work with old Trenfold, the falconer. If you have questions, talk to Sarra, Trenfold, or me." Deryne nodded, mind buzzing as Daine showed her how to check the kestrel's talons, beak, and feathers for signs of disease. "I have begun to heal his wing- it already healed fair well- but it ought to fix itself naturally now. Otherwise, he may have trouble with it later. You can easily have a perch made, and you might need a tether and a hood-" The woman nibbled on her lip, then turned towards the bird for a moment with a frown. "No, never mind. He won't need the hood; you might have a hard time of putting it on."

"Sounds like a thankless task," Cadel muttered.

"_Keee!_" Duskwing shrieked, turning his sharp eyes to the boy. Deryne frowned, it had stayed in the back of her mind until now, but when the kestrel moved- especially when he flapped his good wing- shimmering blue sparks flew in her magical vision, ones that were stronger- more alive- than the ones she saw for any person's motions. Daine laughed.

"Oh, this is easy, Deryne. You ought to talk to your mother about the time she had to raise a baby griffin, Cadel." The cousins' eyes grew large.

"Aunt Kel took care of a _baby griffin_?" Deryne squeaked, forgetting all about her observations. Daine chuckled.

"I'll let her tell you the story." She finished running her hands through Duskwing's feathers. "You are a very pretty bird you know?" she crooned softly. A soft _kee _left the kestrel at that. A slow, whirling spiral of threadlike, glittering Gift flew from his beak. "You know that my wild magic affects the animals in the palace?" Deryne nodded; the Corus birds and animals tended to be more human than their counterparts outside because of Daine. "Duskclaw was always a clever kestrel and as fearless as anything. _Before _my power brought him to this… intelligence. He is able to understand your tone, if not your precise words. And I can hardly doubt that he may pick up commands and words as he grows, he is still very young."

"So I could tell him to do something?" Deryne asked, puzzled. "And he would do it?" A hint of a smile crossed Daine's face.

"Well, that is a falconer's business. To train such falcons and hawks to obey commands." She grinned broadly. "But- as they become more human- kestrels, in particular- become more contrary, too. You may tell him something, but he will do it only if he wants to." She stroked Duskwing's head. He cocked his head towards her. "Take care of him, and he will certainly take care of you, Deryne. They are loyal birds, if anything." Deryne's eyebrows rose.

"And one can certainly tell that from how he deserted Trenfold," Evrain said sarcastically, apparently reading his friend's thoughts. Duskclaw protested loudly; the boy winced.

"Ah, but he _came _to Deryne," Daine pointed out. "Be patient. Remember that he is no huge, strong hound, nor is he a tricky, attention-seeking cat. Kestrels are fierce and formidable, in their own way. An entirely different creature." She sighed, staring at the glossy feathers. "I will be back to splint his wing, but I believe that you pages must go." Aloin leapt up from his place on Deryne's bed, eyes wide.

"We'll be late!" he declared, alarmed. Deryne whipped around to the door, too.

"I haven't changed!" she cried. Cadel grabbed her arm.

"We can go straight after we go to the mess. If haMinch sees we aren't there-" The girl turned to Daine.

"Thank you so much," she said quickly, handing the woman her key. "Please lock it, when you leave. And come back to fix his wing if you need to-" Then she whipped around and dashed after her friends towards the dining hall.

Fortunately for the group of friends, they managed to sneak in just as haMinch arrived, earning them a disapproving glare but nothing more. They ate a quick meal without talking, then left early to change. Deryne was grateful to see that Daine had waited with Duskclaw until she had come back. The Wildmage had laughed.

"You would have been locked out of your room," she replied, handing the girl her key. Then her gray eyes grew serious. "Are you all right?" she asked softly. "Are haMinch and that squire-"

"Everything's fine," Deryne said hastily, fighting the impulse to look away. She hated awkward, solemn questions. The woman smiled tightly.

"I just worry. I've known you since you were born," she said quietly. "You and Cadel are like a brother and another sister to Rikash." Deryne was embarrassed; she shrugged it off lightly.

"He needs someone to tell him when he's in a surly mood," she answered, succeeding in getting his mother to chuckle.

"Take care of yourself, Deryne," she said, putting a hand on the page's shoulder and squeezing gently. Deryne grinned.

"Aren't you just turning into a mother hen?" she teased. "I haven't seen Mama in weeks, but between you and Aunt Kel-" Daine's eyebrows rose.

"Kel has been stopping by?" she queried.

"Just to see how stuff is going. Unlike the Lioness, _she_ cannot be accused of witchcraft. But Kasem's been complaining and lecturing about favoritism recently-" Daine scowled.

"Odd's bobs!" she exclaimed. "You would think that people would give it a rest! I mean, all folk have some favorites! You can't say Kasem's da's old mates weren't looking out for him in some of the scrapes he got involved in!" Deryne had to smile at the woman's indignation.

"If there were no conservatives, then we'd always get our way," Deryne pointed out. "Imagine how spoiled we'd be." Daine's lips twitched ruefully.

"True. I need to go now, Deryne. Just be sure to watch out for yourself. You hear me?" Deryne waved her hands at the woman.

"Of course," she laughed. "Don't worry about me. No worries-" Her gaze turned to Duskwing, who preened. "Especially while I have Master Kestrel the Fearless here. He'll be the last surprise visitor I'll ever have." Daine chuckled.

"That's for certain," she agreed, waving one last time as she walked out the open door. "See you soon."

* * *

Alas, for Cadel, their classes were over far too quickly. Deryne and Evrain gleefully dragged him to Sir Myles's study, with Aloin dancing around them like a joyful pup and Laun following behind them quietly. 

Far too preoccupied with the doom apparently lurking over Cadel's head, none of them saw the cloaked figure watching from the end of the corridor. Once they turned the corner and disappeared from sight, the shadow whirled around with a flip of the black mantle and strode away in the direction of the pages' rooms.

But someone else did. A man with the telltale signs of a growing beard spoke to a lovely woman with golden skin and firelight in her eyes. Both were dressed in servants' garb, but no one around them could have said they had ever seen the handsome couple before. His lips barely moved as he put his hands on the black-haired woman's shoulders. Her back was to the page's wing.

"Oh dear," he murmured, his voice as soft of the wind as it flew through the open corridor. "I fear that we cannot allow this to happen, can we?" The woman turned around to eye the disappearing figure shrewdly.

"You know there is danger," she murmured gently. "That was why you gave her a guardian. You can do nothing else to interfere." She turned back to see the displeased expression on her companion's face.

"It is not enough," he said stoically. "There is something in the wind…. But I cannot divine what it is." The woman sighed.

"You always leave the work to me," she accused playfully. "Do not fret. I shall remedy your worries." A smile played at his lips.

"Never. I will always be troubled. It is part of my nature." She grinned, then kissed him on the cheek.

"I know, my dear. But I intend to stir everything up in our favor once again. It is what I do best."

* * *

Sir Myles always had some interesting artifact lying about somewhere among the papers. Cadel picked up the Yamani waving cat- a sign of good luck in the Islands- and wiped the dust off with his fingers. Then his hazel eyes fell upon the small figurine that had been behind the cat. Gingerly, he picked it up in his other hand and held it up to the light. 

"What's this, Myles?" he asked, intrigued. Looking away from Irnai, the old man glanced at it.

"Ah, only a symbol of an old Scanran god. The Gallans still worship him, I think." He frowned thoughtfully. "Or perhaps he has passed on into legend… I cannot be certain." Cadel inspected the miniature kestrel closely. Its beak was open, as if caught in mid-cry, and its wings rose in flight. "The stories said that the one to tame old Frejonak's birds would be given a grand gift; everyone up north would carry one for luck, hoping that mayhap Frejonak would mistake the small token for one of his." He shrugged. "I do not remember the details. All I know is that the one to carry it is called lucky."

"Like the cat," the boy said, holding up the other animal. Myles nodded.

"Yes." He chuckled. "It seems that all of our nations have something in common; all agree that it never hurts to hope for a bit of luck for themselves. Take it, Cadel. I have no room in my old mind for foolish wishes."

"It is not a foolish wish," Irnai said dreamily as the boy pocketed the figurine. "Soon, the old meanings will become clear again, and the ancient stories will be replayed-"

"Cadel!" Deryne grinned from across the room. "This is all for _your _benefit! Get over here!" The boy exchanged a chagrinned glance with the old man, then turned back to Rikash and his cousin. He put his hands on his hips and sighed.

"Better to get this over with."

"Oh, come on," Deryne retorted. "You won't say that once you've seen-" She looked over at the other boys, who stood a healthy distance away, and rolled her eyes. "That goes for you lot, too." She tucked her hair behind her ears, then splayed her hands out. "Ready, Ri?"

"Of course." Cadel groaned.

"Gods help us," he muttered.

* * *

Deryne closed her eyes and sought out her Gift. It did not take long to coax it out and into a whirlwind around her. Her hair rose in the breezes as she pulled the magic close, forming a fierce gale that whipped about in circles. As she cracked her eyes open, she saw Rikash glaring into her tiny storm, his lip tightly caught between his front teeth. The wind snarled in her ears as it reached its greatest strength; she would have to be careful. The stronger the gust, the harder it tried to slip away from her. She grappled with it, bearing her will down- 

Slowly, a snake of fire danced from Rikash's outstretched hands, straining towards the miniature tornado. As the two magics met, the fire shot through the breezes, blazing high in the whirlwind of flame. Deryne grimaced as she struggled with the sudden heat; she drew colder, gentle zephyrs to her.

She could see that Cadel and the rest of her friends were transfixed with amazement, mouths open. She grinned-

And then the fire exploded. Sparks spread across the room faster than one could blink. Rikash gasped in sudden pain. Deryne's head snapped to her friend; he was doubled over, his face a mask of agony. Without thinking, she reached out towards him-

Her control snapped, broken by her sudden motion and her concern for Rikash. Deryne managed one, short curse. Then the wind roared up, snuffing out all of the candles in the room and enraging the fires now burning throughout the room. Irnai screamed, a loud, anguished cry that made Deryne's hairs stand up on end as it rang through her ears. Thrusting her will and power into the storm around her, she struggled with her Gift in desperation, hoping to regain control, but the magic tugged free of her power and whipped through the room.

"They are back," Irnai whispered tightly. Deryne did not know how she could hear the woman as she fell to the floor in a heap, drained of her power. "They come- they come to heal and slay…. They come to restore their glory…. And they rely on the chosen…. But how shall we stand? Only three are awake- no, four! But he only plays with flower petals!" Her voice rising to a cry, Irnai fell to her knees. "Where shall we be, then, when the storms and floods and fires come?" she shrieked, looking more like a specter in the light of the flames than a mortal. "How will they conquer them? How will they protect us?" Deryne stared at the woman, uncertain, as the unreal scene unraveled before her. It was then that Irnai locked eyes with her. Involuntarily, Deryne leapt back, the wildness in the woman's eyes frightening. She wanted to run, to turn her back and leave the madwoman behind- "You!" the woman cried. Bewildered, Deryne met Irnai's gaze again, only to be held captive by the horror found in the deep orbs. "Your mortal life disappears before your eyes! Doom falls upon you, upon Yama's Festival!" Ice filled Deryne. She stared blankly at the seer as she fell to her knees, wringing her hands. "If she falls, we are lost! Show me the fate of these worlds, then!" she cried. "Will you show me doom and give me no hope?! Gods and your Greater Selves, your Mighty Brothers and Sisters! Don't hide your faces!" Her voice rose to a scream and the wind whipped the two of them. "We shall die, then? Why turn your faces and hide like cowards?!"

"Irnai!" Deryne shouted desperately, praying to the Goddess that she could calm the wretched woman. "Irnai, please-"

Once more, Irnai whipped around to face her but, this time, her eyes glowed white, and her face was smooth, not contorted in fear.

_Godhood,_ Deryne thought, striving to keep calm. She was quickly losing the fight with herself. _White light- means godhood- _Still, she could make no more sense of her tangled thoughts as Irnai walked purposely towards her, her face resolute. When she spoke, Deryne shivered. She would have made the Sign Against Evil, but she stood transfixed.

"_He comes,_" she rasped, the whisper escaping her lips familiar and yet unidentifiable. The soft voice rushed through Deryne's senses, soothing her panicking mind. "_He will kill you… unless you strike first. On Yama's Festival, Yama's Festival shall the future of all be decided,_" she chanted in the gentle drawl. In a snakelike motion, the seer gripped her arm, and Deryne gasped. Her skin was as cold as ice. "_Don't falter, Deryne of Queenscove…. He comes, he who has worn his welcome in the mortal worlds. He who sucked life from so many… he who stole so much happiness from the world and cast it carelessly aside… He shall conquer again, lest you stand and fight. Unless you find him… The power of the zephyrs shall protect you… but he who is friend will destroy you._"

"_WHAT IS GOING ON?!_" Deryne heard Numair Salmalin bellowing in the distance. But the roar of the wind tearing about them drowned out his shouts, and the burning white light in Irnai's eyes held her attention.

"_Heed me, Queenscove,_" the voice hissed. Irnai tightened her hold on the page, her fingernails biting into Deryne's skin. The girl cried out in pain, but she could hardly hear her own voice in the snarl of the nameless god and the sudden wind. "_I placed too much in you for you to fail- this is important, what I tell you now. Remember this, that history has a terrible way of-_"

One clear voice shouted an arcane word into the air; Deryne fell backwards, away from the seer, as black light bathed both of them. Her eyes rolling up in her head, Irnai collapsed into a cushion of black, magical Gift.

Breathing heavily, she looked up and around the suddenly silent room.

A weary, stumbling Numair trudged towards her, a number of wide-eyed pages behind him. Cadel and Rikash still sat where they had fallen, stunned.

"What-" The world spun around Deryne as she struggled to stand; she only managed to sink into the floor with exhaustion. "I-" Then, when Numair was almost at her side, the whole world tilted. Throwing herself to the floor, hoping to steady the reeling, she felt the contents of her stomach hurl itself onto the floor. A stench reached her nostrils, and she struggled to back away- With a faint moan, Deryne succumbed to a raging darkness that rose up to take her mind.

* * *

A lovely young woman sauntered over to the dark blond man waiting at the palace gate. She cocked a thick, perfect eyebrow at him. 

"You decided to take care of your own affairs, then?" she asked archly. "I am impressed-" A dark laugh escaped the man as they turned their back on the guards and strolled out.

"As I told you, I have put far too much in this to fail now. If I lose this stake, then I have lost everything. For _all_ of us."

* * *

_AN: Well? What do you think? Any ideas of what's to come? Feel free to review! _

_After all, reviewers make happy writers, and happy writers put off essays and studying for tests and all sorts of evil things to WRITE..._

_And when nice chappies are written, they get posted! So the system works well for everyone... ;D _


	9. Chapter 8: Rooms With Minds of Their Own

AN: OKAY! For the TENTH time-!

I'm SO sorry, ffn hasn't been working... (ahhh!!!) Drives me up a friggin' WALL!

Ahem. Sorry. I'm good now. ;D Happy Holidays, folks.

_ Thanks to reviewers **SarahE7191**, **cahawk**, **sarralynsalmalin**, **rapidishponyta**, and my beta, **Kyrie of Accender**. You guys are awesome! _

_So, here we are (FINALLY)- _

* * *

_Chapter Eight_

_Rooms with Minds of Their Own _

There was an altar at the end of the room, one decorated with golden candlesticks and what looked like gold chain mail. Behind it, a golden sun disk hung on the gray stone wall. Deryne stepped forwards, frowning. Next to it was a set of iron doors, huge and foreboding in the dim light. But Deryne watched the shadow, lurking between the altar and doors, swaying from side to side in a mesmerizing dance.

"Hello?" she whispered uncertainly. The shadow whipped around; its eyes flashed. Then it slipped through a crack in the doors and disappeared. "Hello?"

She was in a chapel of Mithros, one she had never seen before.

And she had a feeling she knew where she was- if she was still in the palace, she knew _exactly _where she was… and she prayed she was not right. Trembling, she walked towards the doors, past the dark, polished benches. The only lights in the room were the lit candles on the altar and whatever rays dared to filter through the plain windows high above her.

No page was allowed in here; it was forbidden.

As she neared the door, Deryne realized that voices were coming from the door. Bedecked with whisps of blue, whispers and screams played in her mind, all mixed into one, indecipherable cacophony. She sent timid strands of her Gift out, but- try as she might- she could not hear them clearly.

She wanted to run, to turn her back and flee the Chamber, but found that her feet would do nothing but walk towards the doors-

"Hello?" Her throat was dry, her voice a rasp. "Can you hear me?" The voices grew quiet as her footsteps echoed against the floor, her magic floating up from the sound. Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, Deryne swallowed heavily and reached out to rest her palm against the shimmering metal-

_KEEE!_ Deryne sat up sharply, realizing that she was waking up.

"Who needs a body to come wake 'em up?" she mumbled. "All you need is a blasted bird-" She stopped speaking when she opened her eyes to see her parents, her Aunt Kel, and Cadel watching her. Lady Yuki surveyed her eldest daughter.

"Deryne, how are you feeling?" The girl looked at her mother in surprise.

"What do you mean? I- _oh_." She paused in the middle of climbing out of her bed. Her head pounded; her stomach flipped. She grimaced, then lay back down. "What- My bed… how did I get- ah." Events came rushing back to her with a vivid clarity she wished they had not retained. Her relatives peered down at her, concern written on their faces. Deryne smiled ruefully. "Irnai got a little excited, didn't she?" Her father's eyes bulged.

"_Excited,_ you say?" he huffed. "Gods, Deryne, she foretold your _death_, if I've heard the details right-" Deryne's eyebrows rose.

"You take her _seriously_?" Neal of Queenscove ignored his daughter's incredulity, muttering on about prophecies. "Da, _really. _She was upset about the explosion, is all-" Pausing, she frowned. "What happened to Rikash, anyhow?" Her father glared daggers at her.

"Are you _completely _disregarding what I've just said?" he demanded. "By the Gods-"

"Neal, my dear," Yuki interjected, seeing the oddly similar, mulish looks on the faces of husband and daughter. "It seems that Deryne is _fine_- perhaps not even shaken. Irnai has always been nattering on about something…" She rested a gentle hand on the man's shoulder. "Remember the day she said you'd trip over the first step you saw? You tripped over the third or fourth, if I remember correctly." Neal glared at his wife. "Deryne needs rest, and you have patients to attend to."

"Go on, Meathead," Kel encouraged, using Deryne's Uncle Dom's nickname for her father. Neal sighed, looking from one woman to the other. "No need to fuss. On w' you."

"I ought to bring Dom next time," he muttered, rising from his seat by Deryne's bed. "So I'm not always bullied and outnumbered." Kel snickered.

"Are you daft?" she queried. "Dom would side with us every time."

"True," he groaned, then shot a dark look at his daughter. "Be careful, Deryne." The girl smiled.

"Have I ever given you cause to worry?" she asked flippantly. Her father snorted.

"Does a fox go after baby chicks?" he retorted. Yuki rose with her usual Yamani grace, then grabbed her husband's elbow. Kel stood to grab her friend's other arm, and both women firmly steered him out of the room.

"Bye, love," her mother called as they left Deryne's room. Cadel chuckled softly; Deryne made a rueful face.

"Fathers," she muttered. "Always going on about something-"

"He isn't the only one. Duskwing has been staring at you since they carried you in," Cadel remarked lightly. Deryne turned; sure enough, the kestrel stared at her intently. "Daine came in to feed him; she said to tell you that she's told one of the servants to come up with the raw meat." Both of them grimaced. "Better you than me." They fell silent watching the majestic bird as it glared solemnly at them.

"Cadel?" Deryne asked after a moment, knowing that she did not have to ask; she already knew the answer.

"Eh?" Cadel, who had been admiring Duskwing, turned back to his cousin.

"Do you know of any chapels in the palace? Ones we hadn't explored?" She swallowed heavily. "Of Mithros?" Cadel bit the inside of his lip for a moment in puzzlement.

"The only one I can think of is the Chamber of Ordeal… why? What's up?" Her heart sank; her suspicions had been right. The Chamber of Ordeal. The chamber in which a mystery unspoken of lay, one that tested squires who would be knights. Pages were not allowed to enter the chapel, and no one was permitted in- as far as Deryne knew- except for their Ordeal. Has she dreamt of it?

"What?" She blinked, shaking her head. "Oh, nothing. Nothing at all." Cadel watched her unblinkingly. Duskwing preened his bound wing.

"Sir Myles gave me sommat," he said slowly. "A small luck token… of a kestrel. It's a sign of some Scanran god…. And it looks like you might need some luck even more than I do." The girl cocked her head to one side as her cousin pulled a small figurine out of his pocket and placed it on her bed table. "There," he mumbled. "It'd be nice if it worked, wouldn't it?" Deryne peered over at the minuscule bird, its beak open in a silent screech. She smiled.

"Yeah. It would be."

* * *

She was in the Chamber again. She shivered; why? Curiousity led her past the plain benches and windows again, to the set of doors. Small bits of her sky blue Gift glowed around the doors as the small whispers continued in her mind. 

"The Chamber of Ordeal," she said softly as she neared it, leaning forwards, striving to hear the quiet murmurs-

_Bang!_ She leaped back, a small scream escaping her lips as she fell back. Her eyes wide, she watched as something on the other side slammed on the door. _Bang! _Dust and magic flew forwards in a glittering cloud. _Bang! Bang! _

_Bang!_ Deryne sat up in her bed, gasping.

"My lady?" Looking over, she realized that the serving girl Cecilia had been knocking on the door. "May I come in? I have your lunch." Headache coming back, Deryne sank into her pillows weakly.

"Sure," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She rubbed her face vigorously as the young woman entered and handed her the tray. "I'm not very hungry."

"You ought to eat sommat, my lady. Otherwise, y'r father's gonna have a fit." Deryne smiled slightly.

"Can't have that, can we?" she asked, smiling. "Tell him I can't wait to get outta bed, will you?" But, as soon as she had picked at her food as much as she could and the maid had left, her eyelids closed, and she fell back asleep.

* * *

This time, she was annoyed when she saw her surroundings; the Chamber again. What was the point of this? Was she God-Touched? If so, then why did Mithros summon her to his temple? Jaw set, she strode forwards, pushing her fears away. 

"What is this?" she murmured, eyes set on the doors. Now, those gates to that great, nameless test were silent. She paused before the altar; the candle flames danced in the dark. Then she turned towards the Chamber itself. "Why do you call me?" she asked softly. "I am a page. I cannot come here…."

_Did I say I wanted you to come? _demanded a cold voice. Deryne stiffened; it came from the Chamber. She licked her lips, trying to calm her pounding heart.

"Then why do you bring me here?" she whispered.

_You are in danger. _When her worrying father said it, Deryne had rolled her eyes. Now, it sent waves of ice through her. _You ought to listen to your God. _Despite the chill running through her, Deryne cocked an eyebrow at the Chamber.

"My God?" she asked. "Which one?"

_That I cannot answer. It is a matter between the two of you. You're a clever girl. Find out yourself. _

"What are you? Are _you _a god?"

_Hmph! Me? Never… no, I am far older than your Mithros and Goddess… and yet more vulnerable than either one. _Deryne frowned.

"How is that possible?"

_Humans!_ The voice dripped with disdain. _Do you forget _everything_? The past is important… your kind could learn a lot from remembering it. Maybe it would save lives, stop stupid mistakes from reoccurring._ There was a long pause. _It could save your life, Deryne of Queenscove. _Deryne frowned.

"Irnai," she said slowly. "She- the God in her- was that _my _God?"

_How should I know? _it queried distastefully.

"But he- whoever he is- said something about history," she said slowly. "Is this a hint?"

_When a God tells you something, girl, you should think on it. _Deryne scowled.

"Right, then," she muttered. "From now on, I'll leave touchy rooms alone."

_Room? I am far more, page. I have seen leagues of your kind, and only a few stand above the rest! _The voice roared in her ears; blue magic streaked across her vision._ I will tell you now, you have the potential to be one of them, along with your aunt and several others. But your enemy will be more dangerous than the Lioness's, your legacy more honored than your aunt's, your stakes greater than the Old King's. _

"Stakes?" the girl whispered. "Legacies? Quests?"

_You don't even know what I speak of. _The Chamber was unpleased. _This is what I mean; you know nothing! _Deryne's eyes narrowed.

"And who should I ask?" she hissed.

_Your people are fools! There's no one! _it snarled back. _Come here! _Deryne reeled in her spot; her Gift rushing over her in a tidal wave as the words ordered her forwards. She fought against it, but her feet slowly lead her to the Chamber. _Don't fight, girl! You'll only hurt yourself! _There was sense in its words, but Deryne was still reluctant to obey. When she knelt at the doors, she remembered the last time she had been this close to them, and the banging-

Her fingertips brushed the door; realizing what was about to happen, she jerked her hand away.

_Stop fooling around, Queenscove. I will hurt you if I must. _

"Do I have to?" she asked, voice faltering. There was no answer; bracing herself, the page bit her lip and reached out to touch the door.

She was falling, falling into a fog that obscured all of her senses. But- with her Gift's power- she could sense that someone was nearby. She tried to send her power out to build a picture of the person in her mind, but the features kept changing, shifting so quickly she could not hope to keep up.

"You aren't a room," she said unsteadily. A soft laugh echoed around her; she whipped around, trying to fins its source.

_I thought I already told you that. _It was amused.

_Well, good for you, _she thought mulishly. _I'm glad I'm so entertaining. _

_I am a room and I am not. There is… another part of me. Your small, human brain could not comprehend. _Deryne rolled her eyes.

"Are you going to clue me in?" she drawled. "Or I am to wait in suspense?"

_Impertinent child. I should leave you to the wolves. _

"Since when do you get involved in human affairs, anyway?" Deryne demanded. "If we're so horrible?"

_I suppose I should blame the Protector of the Small. She was an interesting young woman; I liked her. _

"Good for her," her niece muttered. Then she frowned. "What did you have to do with her?"

_I sent her to kill Blayce the Gallan. She did an excellent job of it, I must admit. _Deryne frowned.

"Blayce? The necromancer?" She remembered the story. Blayce had created huge monsters out of metal and children's souls.

_Hmm, yes, him. _The Chamber fell silent for a moment. _You should ask her about him. Find out more about him. For your general health. _Deryne's eyebrows rose.

"He's dead."

_And- unfortunately- humans have a terrible way of causing trouble _after_ they're dead, _it drawled.

"You mean, like- necromancy? Coming back to life?"

_Could be, could be. _If the Chamber had a face, Deryne would have bet every crown she had that it was smiling. _We will speak again, Queenscove. _

Deryne was thrown backwards; she slammed into a heavy bench. Looking around, she saw that she was back in the Chamber of Ordeal. The doors to the Chamber were wide open; there was only an empty, small room within. As Deryne watched, a small glimmer of blue Magic- a signal that someone was moving- gleamed in the center of the Chamber.

But there was nothing there.

* * *

Deryne knew that she was awake, but she did not bother opening her eyes as she stretched. Duskwing made a soft noise. 

"I tell you, nobody can leave me 'lone for long," she mumbled before turning over onto her stomach and falling back asleep.

She did not see the magic that flowed through the crack underneath her door. Duskwing screeched quietly, but then fell silent as it flew at him. His small body glittered for a moment, then his eyes closed….

HaMinch had ordered her to her room for several days. With no one but Duskwing to talk to, Deryne found the days in bed boring and painful. Rikash's older sister, Sarra, stopped by for a visit to the other girl's delight. Seeing the kestrel, Sarra- who had her mother's Wildmagic- grinned, then winked at Deryne.

"Watch this," she chuckled, closing her eyes. For a moment, the girl just stood there, in front of Duskwing, who eyed her curiously. Deryne watched eagerly; she had seen Sarra shape-shift before. She had used it to terrify the bullies among the palace children; they all knew whose word went when it came to a dispute. Deryne's eyes widened as Sarra's body began to shrink, her skin turning gray as feathers burst from it. Her eyes changed shape and color, her nose and mouth growing together to form a beak while talons grew from her shortening legs. Mouth open, Deryne stared at Sarra as she flapped her wings and took off. A small screech left Duskwing as he glared at Sarra the kestrel as she soared around the room. A small giggle escaped Deryne's lips; the loathing on poor Duskwing's face was obvious.

_Blasted Wildmage. _Deryne's eyes grew huge at the glitter of her Gift around the bird as it brought the quiet thought to her head. Duskwing turned his head to look at her. _Always showing off. _

"Gods above," she whispered, making the Sign against Evil on her chest. The voice was oddly familiar- "Did I hit my head when I fell-?" Sarra dived to the floor at the end of Deryne' bed, and the stunned girl looked away as the Wildmage went back to her human form and pulled her clothes on.

"What was that, Deryne?" Sarra asked, buttoning up her shirt.

"Umm…." Deryne looked at the bird, then blinked. "Can you hear Duskwing? His thoughts, I mean?"

"Of course," Sarra replied, puzzled. "He wants to fly." Deryne swallowed heavily.

"What _exactly _did he say?" Sarra's lips twitched.

"That I was a two-legger and People, and that that was confusing. And that I shouldn't be able to fly while he's earth-bound."

"Did he call you a show off?" Sarra raised her eyebrows.

"Oh? Is that what you think I am?" She laughed. "Or are you hearing the People now?" Turning red, Deryne smiled.

"I dunno," she answered, staring at the kestrel. He was glaring right back at her. "What's he saying now?"

_You're slow to the mark, Queenscove. You haven't worked it out yet? _Deryne frowned; she could almost put a finger on-

The Chamber. The girl gasped. The Chamber's voice was coming from Duskwing.

"I- he's confused," Sarra was saying. Her brow furrowed. "His thoughts- they come in and out…." She bit her lip. "Maybe I'm losing my magic… I- I can't hear him!" Deryne's heart went out to the panic in the apprentice's eyes.

"Maybe you're tired." Sarra shook her head.

"No, no- I can do so much without exhausting my magic- and I _should_ be able to hear-!"

"What had he been saying?" Sarra reached a hand out to the bird, her eyes filling with tears.

"Nothing, really," she murmured. "He was just shocked- It was as though something was taking over him, pushing him- his mind- away-"

_Tell bird girl he's fine, _the Chamber ordered. _Mother Universe! One would think I had killed him. He's here, just a little surprised. I'm glad it was a strong, clever bird that made its way to you, not some blasted, cheerful dog with a chewed ear. I _never _would have been able to tolerate _thatDeryne blinked.

"Umm… I don't think you have to worry," she said to her friend. Sarra gazed at the kestrel.

"It's just strange," the young woman answered, tucking a loose hair behind her ear, her eyes far-away.

"You're telling me," the page muttered, shooting a glare at Duskwing.

It took a few more minutes to convince Sarra to leave; once she did, Deryne turned on the bird.

"What in Chaos just happened?" she demanded.

_Haven't you ever heard of possession? Any self-respecting immortal can do it._ Duskwing preened.

"But… if you've left the Chamber-"

_You are rather slow, aren't you? _He hopped to the end of his post and bent his head down to Deryne. She stroked his small head gently. _I said that I am the room and a… something else. This is that other side of me; I can co-exist with the Chamber of Ordeal _and _live without it, if it were destroyed. And vice-versa. _Deryne grimaced.

"Whatever," she mumbled. "Care to tell me why you've decided to follow me around?"

_You need help. Even Duskwing could see that; Frejonak must have sent him._Deryne frowned.

"Frejonak?"

_You have his symbol there. You asked for him to help you, then? _Duskwing jerked his head at the small kestrel on the bed table. The one Cadel had given to her. Deryne frowned.

"The kestrel? I just got it today… This Frejonak… he's a Scanran god, right?" Then she pursed her lips. "I have not thought of it much, but what Irnai said, if it isn't nonsense…." She trailed off, then took a deep breath. "Yama's Festival. What's that?"

_How am I supposed to know? _Deryne glared.

"I bet you do," she told him venomously. "Who's Yama?"

There was no answer. Blue magic gleamed at the kestrel's wingtips, then faded. She growled under her breath.

"Blasted rooms," she muttered. "Always ducking out when you need 'em the most…."

The next day, Deryne woke up refreshed. When she stood, her vision no longer swayed. Duskwing made a soft, protesting noise as she rose and pulled on a pair of breeches.

"Don't be silly," she ordered the bird. "HaMinch said I had four days to recover; if I'm feeling fine now, there's no reason for me to make good use of the time." The kestrel did not answer. Though she had tried many times, Deryne could not feel the Chamber's presence in the creature. She had guessed it had left to wander in some dark corner, waiting for her to forget. Or perhaps she was crazy; that made a bit more sense to her than any other possible explanation. "Well, it's not going to get rid of me that easily," she said, brushing her hair back brusquely. "If I don't get answers by asking you and your mate, Duskwing, I'll just have to go where I'll find them." The bird glared at her, as if to say, _it wasn't _my _idea to invite the Chamber; don't go calling it _my _friend. _

Sir Myles was not in his study when Deryne peeked in.

"Hello? Myles?" Silence. Carefully, she slipped inside and shut the door behind her. After a moment's deliberation, she slid the bolt into place, locking it. Then she turned to the knight's desk. As usual, there were hundreds of scrolls and pieces of parchment spread out over it. Unable to decide what she would do, the page crept over to gaze at the mess before her.

The open book on top of the mountain of paper was bookmarked; Deryne leaned over it, her black hair falling into her range of sight as she looked.

_Four is an important number in our world. Whether it be the fundamental elements or directions, great Houses or gods, four or one of its multiples-_

Bored, Deryne flipped through the pages, scanning the ancient, brittle paper for anything of interest. Finally, the word _Yama_ caught her attention. Heart beating furiously, she narrowed her eyes, trying to decipher the author's text.

_The Yamani Goddess of Fire- _

I knew that, she suddenly realized. She had prayed to Yama and some of the other Yamani gods since she had been little. Mentally, she kicked herself for not realizing it sooner.

_She is a many-faced goddess, different in every culture and yet ingrained in each one, like her siblings. However, she is most prominent in the Yamani Islands, where she is worshiped for her power over volcanoes and the hot sun- _

"Thinking of being a spy, then, eh?" Alarmed, Deryne whipped around to see Sir Myles watching her, his kind eyes twinkling. "Sneak about like that, and I'll put in a good word to the spymaster for you." She blushed.

"I- I'm sorry, sir," she mumbled, her eyes falling to the floor. 'I- I knocked, and-"

"I was busy," he said shortly, gesturing to the many shelves behind him. "Cataloguing. The man before me never even tried to keep things in order."

"Yes," Deryne said weakly. "Of course- I really am sorry for coming in-" Myles chuckled.

"Since when have you apologized for your actions?" the old man queried, tottering towards her. "Particularly when there is nothing wrong about them. I have been reading up on Yama, and some other gods," he said shortly. "I thought you would like to know, as soon as you were well again." A smile spread across Deryne's face; Myles knew her all too well! And she was grateful he did.

"Thank you," she whispered, stepping forward to hug him. Myles laughed, patting her on the back.

"Now, I believe that you wanted to know about this festival?" Promptly, Deryne sat down in the wooden chair next to Sir Myles's cushioned one. With a grunt, he seated himself, placing his hands on his knees. "Midwinter," he started. "-is one day a year now. Time was that it referred to the whole month before it, a magical time in which people claimed that gods were born." Deyrne couldn't help it. She snorted. Myles smiled at her. "Ah, but there's more truth in there than many are willing to admit," he told the page. "Long ago, the Gift was different. It had a tendency to… get out of hand, this time of year." Deryne frowned.

"What does that have to do with anything about gods?" she asked. Myles shrugged.

"Nothing much, I suppose," he rumbled. "Just that Gifts tend to be set off by the nearness of the divine… when Their own powers break loose, that is."

"And… divine power would break loose if a god were born?" Deryne guessed.

"You would have to speak with Master Numair, but, yes, I would surmise that," the man replied. "And what does _this _have to do with Yama?

"Well, the Yamanis- who were the last to let this old way of celebrating the gods die- called the last seven days before Midwinter the Festivals. Yama's Festival- the Fire Festival, if you will- is the day before Midwinter." Deryne let the information sink in slowly; it seemed to her that there was no point to it.

"Midwinter is in two months," she said flatly. Myles watched her closely.

"It is," he agreed.

"Doom falls on Yama's Festival," Deryne repeated. "So... I'm going to die in a couple of months?" The corners of her lips twitched in amused disbelief. Myles sighed.

"I cannot tell you, Deryne," he said heavily, which sombered her instantly. She frowned. "Did your mother tell you that- when they brought you to your rooms- your quarters had been broken into?" The girl's mouth fell open. "I thought not."

"No," she managed. "I think I would've remembered that."

"Nothing was damaged, or taken… your bird might have frightened them off." Myles's worn face lost several decades of age as he smiled. "He certainly scared your father." Deryne grinned.

"Duskwing is an interesting kestrel," she agreed, thinking of how the Chamber had possessed the poor creature. Myles's eyebrows rose.

"A kestrel, eh? I had been talking to Cadel about them. They're good luck in the north, you know."

"I do. Cadel told me, and gave me that small sculpture. He said I might need good luck more than he does." Myles chuckled.

"I hope not," he told her. "After all, luck is hardly ever more scarce than when you need it." Deryne nodded in assent.

"I was wondering…," she began, unable to help bursting into giggles as Myles rose an eyebrow.

"Ask away," he said.

"About… Blayce. The Gallan," she finished lamely. Myles's eyebrows rose even higher.

"I see." He paused for a moment. "And may I ask why?"

"Someone told me I should find out more about him," she replied, not able to look the old man in the eye. She waited for a long, awkward moment.

"What about him?" Myles asked finally. "He was an evil, decrepit man who tortured and killed children for glory and wealth. Your aunt Keladry tracked his men through Scanra, killed him, and rescued the young ones he had stolen."

"What did he do? How-" She cleared her throat. "How did he come to Scanra? He's a Gallan."

"He came to the City of the Gods in the north to study, was discovered experimenting with dangerous magics, and expelled." Deryne's brow furrowed.

"What sort of magics?" she asked. Myles rubbed his unshaven face.

"Um… necromancy in general, I think. Summoning the dead," he answered wearily. "He had some texts, I know, that were sent out of the city soon afterwards, though my agent never found out where they went. Anything else?"

"Maybe," she said, looking out the window. Rain was beginning to fall. "But not now. I'll see you soon, Myles. Thanks."

* * *

As Deryne strode towards her room, she heard a commotion. She stilled, sending out tendrils of her Gift to float along the wind- loud screeching came back to her ears; she swore. 

"Duskwing," she hissed, then took off at a sprint for her room. The bird was still squawking when she fumbled with her keys to unlock the door. She stumbled into the room; the first thing she saw was that Duskwing's bandage had fallen off; the bird screamed defiance, flapping both wings up in the air. She cursed. "Pox-" She rushed over, unable to figure out how to calm the bird. "You'll damage your wing more!" she shouted. The bird quieted; his liquid eyes fixed on her. She exhaled slowly. "It's it," she soothed. "I'll need to find Daine and have her re-bandage this… can you just stay here and stop with the-" She waved his hands up in the air, feeling ridiculous. When the kestrel glared at her solemnly and stopped moving, she breathed a sigh of relief and dashed off for help.

Daine came and left quickly; she had been in the middle of training a rather feisty Rider pony when Deryne had rushed down to beg assistance. Once the woman was gone, Deryne shut the door and bolted it. She sighed, running her fingers through her hair.

"You are a _pain_," she told the kestrel, strolling over to her desk. At least she could get her history work done…. "Tell me why I should bother-" She fell silent as the hairs on the back of her neck rose.

There was a plain envelope lying on top of her books; one that had not been there before she had left to talk with Sir Myles. Frowning, she picked it up.

"Did Cecilia come in with this?" she murmured to Duskwing as she broke the plain, blue seal. He just glared at her. She rolled her eyes. "I can't believe I'm talking to a bird," she muttered, unfolding the letter to scan it hurriedly-

-only to stop half-way down the page, mouth wide.

_You ought to stop now, page. You are going to get yourself hurt. Look to the Fire Festival, dear. You will pay for the successful follies of the Lioness. _

Deryne looked up to the ceiling in disgust. Now the others were playing sick jokes on her? If Kasem was behind it, she would knock him to the ground, next time she saw him, haMinch or no haMinch-

She scowled, using a few choice words as she turned to her kestrel.

"Is_ this _why you were so upset?" she asked. The bird only glared at the piece of parchment. "Did someone come in here, while I was gone?" Duskwing screeched- more quietly, this time, and flexed his good wing. She sighed.

"Well, you certainly frightened him off," she said wryly, plopping down on her bed to stroke the kestrel's feathers. She snorted. "Successful follies, indeed! How could she have success and folly at the same time? Some stupid forth year wrote this; I'll bet anything…." She yawned. "I suppose I should start that reading now, then-" She scrunched up the piece of parchment and threw it into the waste bin. "Waste of good paper, is all. I hate boys."

* * *

_AN: FINALLY! It's UP! (crosses _ fingers) 

Hopefully. Here I go-


	10. Chapter 9: Archery

_Thanks to my beta along with all readers and reviewers- namely **cahawk**, **SarahE7191**, **Lady Fae of Never Land**, and **Heiress of Lohaust**- for your comments!_

_I also apologize for my increasing typos, which several people have pointed out... I will make an effort to fix that, but I have very little time right now. Chapters might be slower in coming, but I promise by the end of January (after mid-terms) that I'll be posting again like usual. I've had this one for awhile now... sorry... _

* * *

_Chapter Nine_

_Archery_

_December 22, 476 H.E._

It was misty and dark in the courtyard in the morning, but Deryne wore a cloak to ward off the cold. A bow and a full quiver of arrows slung around her shoulder, she trooped over to the training yard targets. After the past week's humiliations for her poor archery, she had decided she had had enough smirks from Kasem and glares from haMinch. Cadel had told her to ignore them, but- in this case- Deryne could not help but admit they were right. She was _terrible._

And she had no inclination to give them any sort of satisfaction or reason to throw her out. She could hear them already.

_"A knight must be skilled in all weaponry-" _She rolled her eyes as she positioned herself at the mark. HaMinch said- several times- that her form was wrong, but it was hard to fix at the top notch pace he had them shooting. Now, she could concentrate on it for as long as she needed and- eventually- the correct hold would be natural to her.

After six rounds, she managed to hit the third ring of the target regularly. Sighing, she pursed her lips as she stared at it.

She would _never _be able to get the hang of it-

Somewhere far off, a bell tolled. She groaned; it was time to go to breakfast. Had she truly accomplished so little in an hour's time?

Sighing resignedly, she headed over to the target to collect her arrows. When she had found all but one, she stood, frowning. Perhaps underneath the target-?

Getting down on her knees, she craned her neck, straining to see-

Nothing. She groaned and began to stand up; for losing one of her arrows, haMinch would assign her a bell's punishment-

_Whoosh!_ Deryne froze as an arrow shot straight past her cheek. _Thud! _It hit the target in the middle of the white, center circle. She whipped around, looking for the idiot who hadn't checked the shooting area for any fellow archers- thank the gods it had missed her-

No one came forth out of the mist, swearing and apologizing. No sound, but the soft, muffled whisper that told the girl that someone was walking away. Flourishing a hand, she frowned, forcing her Gift out after the sound-

But the person- whoever it had been- had escaped indoors before her winds got to him. Or her.

Her heart pounding, Deryne looked back at the arrow that had nearly killed her. It was the one she thought she had lost.

Suddenly chilled, she yanked it out of the old, canvas-covered board and leapt up, dashing away as fast as she could.

* * *

"My lord?" Deryne wiped her hands on her tunic as haMinch looked up at her, an eyebrow raised. Kasem sneered, then stood. 

"Get on with you, pages!" he called out to the girl's anxious friends, all clustered at the door of the mess, none of them wanting to leave. Deryne had said nothing but that she wanted to speak with the training master; none of the boys liked the sound of that. "You have work with Ezeko! Move it!" Then he turned to Deryne, who watched him without blinking.

_Stay calm, _she ordered herself as she looked back at haMinch and bowed, her fingers trembling.

"I would like to speak with you alone, my lord," she said quietly. Kasem snorted.

"Indeed, Queenscove?" Folding his hands, haMinch put them on the table.

"Squire, go and help the sergeant. I will deal with this."

_As if I was some huge trouble, _Deryne thought dryly as a disappointed Kasem bowed and took his leave.

"My lord, I received a note, a few weeks ago. A threat," she added as the door shut behind the young man. "I thought it was a joke. I still think it is," she continued hastily. The training master's face was perfectly blank. "But… today, I went out to practice my archery-" She paused, fumbling for words. HaMinch stared at her.

"And?" he prompted after a moment.

"An arrow," she finally managed. "It- came out of nowhere. It nearly hit me while I was collecting my own…." She faded off as the man rose, his face as composed as ever.

"So you are worried by an accident committed by a blind fool?"

"He ran," she said softly, feeling stupid under haMinch's condescending gaze. "I-"

"This is why I have always been against the idea of women trying to fight," the man interrupted, standing and weaving his way through the other chairs to the end of the table. "The female mind is all too ready to jump to conclusions, to excite-"

"He _ran_,' she repeated, ignoring a tiny voice inside that reminded her that it had been a _walk_, not a run-

Which was even more suspicious- Who would try to sneak away, if the near miss had been accidental-?

"Perhaps the idiot was too embarrassed to own up to his mistake? I would be ashamed to make such a blunder myself- only a complete blockhead-"

"But he _left_. He didn't want me to see him…." When he reached the end of the table, the training master stopped once more.

"I thought you said you thought it a joke," he said sternly. "Especially if that is your thought on the manner, I cannot believe there is cause for concern. It was an accident. Nothing more." Then- as an indignant Deryne opened her mouth to retort- he swept past her, down the aisle, towards the doors.

"Sir- my lord-"

"I suggest you hurry to your next class," he called as he opened the door. "Ezeko does not like it when pages arrive late to the training yard." With that, he left the open-mouthed girl there to stare after him, even after the doors swung shut.

* * *

"_Damn!_" Rikash roared as the fire exploded before Deryne's eyes, giving her a moment's warning. 

Prepared for such accidents by this point, she forced a wall of wind between Inar and her and the flying sparks. As they hit the gust, the flames grew, then died as she eased the strength of the wave of magic to a breeze before letting the air still altogether. Inar exhaled slowly.

"Thanks," he muttered. Then, out of Rikash's earshot, he added in a low voice, "You're getting good at that." Deryne shrugged.

"I can almost sense when he's about to-" She made a face, then splayed her fingers, mimicking the miniature explosions their friend managed to set off. Inar nodded grimly, his eyes flickering towards a fuming apprentice mage.

"_Concentrate,_" Numair told his son. He was watching the trio from a few feet away; his mouth was curved in a faint frown.

"I _can't_!" Rikash hissed, her amber eyes blazing as he turned on his father. "Gods, I can't even work with small streams of- what is happening to me-?" Both Deryne and Inar fell silent as Numair walked over to whisper with his son. Such exchanges happened all too often these past few weeks.

"When did you feel your control snap? Was it immediate, or did you feel the Gift wearing down on you-"

"I heard that you talked with haMinch," Inar said, turning to Deryne, who forgot the father-son exchange instantly. His blue eyes were somber, as always. Deryne had not seen much of him lately, except for Gifted lessons- She no longer spoke with her sponsor; he no longer bothered popping up among her friends' numbers in the halls or during lunch. In fact, she could not recall seeing him in the mess-

"Yeah," she sighed, not asking how he knew. Word passed quick in the palace. "Were you there for that prophecy of nonsense that Irnai was going on about awhile ago?" Inar hesitated; a lock of his blond hair fell into his eyes.

"I heard it," he eventually replied. "Though not in full." Deryne shrugged.

"Someone sent me a note threatening that I was going to pay for what the Lioness has done. And then, today, someone-" Seeing Numair stiffen in the corner of her eye, she fell silent. She had thought he was occupied scolding Rikash-

Turning towards the two, she beamed.

"Ready to try that again?" she asked, summoning a strand of her magic. It snaked around her. "If Rikash wants to blast me again, I can work on my shielding spells. You know, Master Numair, they're different from those you taught us. I have to keep the wind up, so I need to feed more into my spell because I _push _objects away while Rikash can just turn them into ashes-" She stopped blathering when she realized that Numair was still staring at her with a dark look in his eye.

"What's this about?" he asked, his voice very, very soft. Deryne swallowed heavily.

"Nothing," she lied quickly. Numair's eyebrows rose. The rest of him stayed very still, accenting the motion in her mind. "Erm… shall we start again? I really think Rikash's got it-"

"Someone threatened you," the man said. "And you were about to mention something else. What happened, Deryne?" Despite how quiet his voice was- or perhaps _because _it was so quiet- Deryne could sense that she would not be able to talk herself out of telling. So she revealed the story, as swiftly as she could, skipping over details and striving to make it sound silly. The mage did not look fooled. "And… you haven't told haMinch about this?" She winced.

"Well- I mentioned it- I mean, it really isn't that-" Numair's eyes narrowed.

"You_ told _him and he hasn't done _anything_?" Deryne eyed a tapestry behind the man meticulously.

"It's just a stupid prank-"

"_Prank?_" All three students flinched as Numair's voice rose to a roar. His features were hard and cold. "_Prank? _Threats and arrows _pranks_? What in Chaos is that man thinking?"

"He just-" Deryne shut her mouth as the mage turned to them, black eyes glittering.

"That_ stupid _conservative!" he snapped. Then he whipped around and strode towards the door, jerking it open and slamming it shut behind him, leaving a dead silence in the room he had just departed.

"Oh… damn." Deryne glanced at both boys, then groaned. "HaMinch is gonna _kill _me…."

* * *

_She was floating, floating over snow-covered mountains…. Clouds rushed past her, making her feel pleasantly cool-_

_Then, she saw the great, walled city. It rose out of the mountains like a great beast out of slumber, its cold beauty overwhelming her-  
_

_The wind took her past the alert guards standing on the wall tops, her Gift snaking out to pull open a pair of balcony doors. As her bare feet grazed the floor, her gown flowing in the breeze, the same gusts that played mischievously in the wildly dancing curtains, she saw a wide-eyed young man staring at her in alarm. Then- before she could say anything to calm him- the short, ratty youth rushed away from the desk he had been pouring over to close the doors. _

_Deryne gasped as he ran straight through her; it felt as though someone was trapped inside of her before he broke loose, exploding through her body. It was not painful…. Still, the sensation was eerie, and she hastily leaped out of the way as he bustled back to his books, nibbling on his short nails. _

_"Hmm… yes, yes-" His trembling fingers flipped through a few more pages. "Lord Thom of Trebond-" _

_Trebond. Deryne had heard of that fief. She frowned; wasn't it the one the Lioness had come from? Yes, she had been known as Alan of Trebond, until she had fought the Duke of Conte-_

_Lord Thom was her son… a mage, in the City of the Gods-_

_But Thom was of Pirate's Swoop, not Trebond-_

_Even though she knew the young man could not hear her, she crept forwards, eyeing him warily as she drew close. _

_A _whoosh _of wings echoed in her ears; she turned her head in time to see a ghostly Duskwing soar in. _

_"Stupid," she heard the Chamber's voice chastise. "Leaving without me." Deryne ignored the words, looking at the man's nervous face as he twitched. _

_"Who is he?" she whispered as he turned a few more pages, his eyes flickering down the page. _

_"He had many names," the Chamber said flatly. "The one I prefer is the Nothing-Man. It suits him like no other title does." Deryne looked back at him, frowning faintly. _

_"The Nothing Man," she breathed, cocking her head to one side. "It's a rather cruel nickname-"_

_"But accurate," it answered as the kestrel landed on her shoulder. The talons bit into her skin, but it as not as painful as she had anticipated. "Murderer." Deryne gazed at the shivering figure. He seemed too nervous, too slight, to kill-_

_"Is he?"_

_"Not now. He does not have anyone to hide behind at this point in time. He is harmless. For now." She pursed her lips; he seemed frail. And alone…. "Save your pity for his victims." _

_"I can hardly help it,' she replied absently, watching his face. "No strength, no fearsome intelligence-"_

_"He hides his destructive capabilities well; I shall grant you that. But know now that no man is more dangerous, particularly to you…." Then one word the Chamber said spoken struck her. Her brow furrowed. _

_"_Had _many names?" Duskwing bobbed his head.  
_

_"A vision of the past," the Chamber told her softly. The words floated around in her mind for longer than they should have. Past... She had been told many times now that the past had an odd way of coming back... that it was inescapable. _

_"Are he and this Yama's Festival connected?" she queried. "I asked Sir Myles about it. I should have known who she was; Mama and I appealed to her every night, though I have never felt her presence about me."_

_"No. I would be very surprised if you did." She rolled her eyes. _

_"Don't sound so modest," she mumbled. "You might as well start singing 'I know something you don't' in that smug voice of yours." _

_"That would be beneath me. Far too undignified." She hesitated. _

_"Chamber-" She scowled, turning her attention away from the Nothing-Man. "Do you have another name, besides the Chamber of Ordeal? After all, according to you, this…" She waved a hand at the kestrel. "-_manifestation_… of yours _isn't _the Chamber. It's another part of you." _

_"It's more complicated than that." It sounded grumpy. She smiled. _

_"But I'm right, aren't I? You _do _have another name."_

_"One I don't give out lightly," it retorted. "Go back to sleep now, Deryne. You look like you need it." _

_Deryne was about to argue, and inform the upstart room that she _was_ asleep, and that he shouldn't just disappear only to pop up in some dream of hers and act like such a know-it-all-_

_But then Duskwing was gone, and the Chamber's voice with him. And then she felt as though she were disappearing, too…. When she looked down, she saw that her body was dissolving into the gentle wind that was heading towards the window-_

_Looking up, she caught one last glimpse of the Nothing-Man as he bent over a piece of parchment and hastily began to write-_

* * *

There was a soft knock at the door; silently, Deryne turned from the window as her aunt Kel opened the door and barged in. 

"Sorry. I didn't think you would be awake so early," Kel said, jerking her head towards the door. Deryne shrugged; she did not mind her aunt running in with little warning. Kel had always been a close friend as well as family. The woman neatened her short brown hair as she caught her breath. "I heard from Numair-" Guiltily, Deryne glanced at the crumpled piece of paper on the floor as Kel crossed the space and hugged her tightly. "Are you feeling all right?" she demanded. Deryne smiled ruefully.

"Numair told you?" Kel snorted.

"He told half the palace when he and haMinch started a yelling match over it." Groaning, Deryne put her face in her hands.

"HaMinch will not be happy with me. And on my first day back... Why don't I just start packing now?" the girl queried, rubbing her temples.

"He wouldn't dare." Kel's eyes narrowed. "Not now. The whole palace probably knows by now." Deryne winced.

"Just wonderful. I always wanted to be famous." Kel chuckled at her niece's sarcasm, then sighed heavily. She turned her back to Deryne, her foot tapping against the stone floor as she ran her fingertips along the edges of the carved armoire, then played with the decorative metal handles.

"You can always bow out." Deryne's eyes widened as her aunt continued, her voice speeding up. "No one would blame you- no one who matters, anyhow- after all, if you are being threat-"

"Bow… out?" Deryne echoed incredulously, taking a step towards the woman. Kel shifted; Deryne could only see a curtain of hair hiding her aunt's face from her. "As in _leave_?_Quit?_" Kel began to finger with the handles furiously.

"Knighthood isn't for everyone. Boys quit all the time," Kel answered softly. She still did not turn towards Deryne. The girl felt ill, worried-

If her aunt- the one who had taught her all those years, helped her through abysmal archery and gave her an edge against the bigger, stronger boys- did not think she could succeed- She held her chin high, refusing to cry.

"You don't believe in me, then?" Despite her resolve, tears gathered in her eyes; her voice wavered.

Of course. She was stupid, to believe that she could do any of it- Kel had been bigger, stronger... Alanna had been Chosen by the Goddess-

_The Chamber said that I have a God watching out for me, _her mind argued. But the thought only made her feel ill. _If I cannot do this even with a divine patron-_

Kel whipped around.

"Of course I believe in you!" she exclaimed, swiftly crossing the space between them. She knelt, resting both hands on Deryne's shoulders, her own hazel eyes glinting in the dawn light. The she bit her lip, her gaze falling to the floor. "But this could be dangerous, Deryne," she whispered, her grip tightening. "And- if something should happen- to you, of all-" She stopped. Deryne was shocked to see that her aunt was shaking; the only thing that kept her from falling off-balance was Deryne. The girl put her hands on top of Kel's; her fingers were cool.

"It could be a prank," Deryne said, trying to cheer her aunt up. Seeing Lady Keladry, Protector of the Small, so troubled left her feeling out of place, a little girl put in charge of those decades older...

"I don't think so." Deryne licked her lips; her palms were sweaty. "There are too many coincidences here-"

"I'm not going to wait," Deryne replied, forcing the words from her mouth determinedly. "I'm going to see this through… one way… or another." She tried not to think about possible alternatives to seeing her training through. The idea of it left her feeling weak, small-

Kel watched her for a long moment, long enough that Deryne had to fight the urge to fidget and look away.

All of her family and friends had long ago learned how to block her Gift from stealing into their thoughts idly. But their simple, disciplined blocks- particularly those of the non-Gifted- could not hold up to her magic. They could not even sense her….

Now- ignoring the slight guilt and dread that built within her- Deryne called her magic forwards, feeling the small shiver of a zephyr as it whizzed against her cheek.

She had _never _tried to read a person's thoughts on purpose, except in the exercises Numair forced her through in the past months. First of all, she usually tried to block the voices _out_. They always eagerly came to her without help.

And it felt _wrong_, as though she were prying into their lives, even though she did it all the time when she was not trying.

At her urging, the invisible magic surrounded the pair, entering Kel. Deryne waited with bated breath, still staring into those unfathomable hazel eyes, as the power swept through the woman's thoughts, easily carrying them back to echo through Deryne's mind.

_So dangerous… so much trouble- Irnai's already been right once before about her-_

An image of a small, black-haired girl- obviously the seer- flooded Deryne's mind, her tooth-missing mouth grinning up at her-

_I should discourage her… tell her she can't do it…something's_ going _to happen-_

_What if-_

_But she _can _do it. _

_I don't have the right to force her either way- _

There was pride in Kel's thoughts… and regret, though what for, Deryne could not discern.

_For better or worse-_

_I cannot stand in her way. _Deryne smiled hesitantly as her power seeped away, leaving her aunt's mind as impenetrable as ever.

"Thank you," she whispered softly, looking into Kel's eyes. The woman smiled crookedly; her eyes glittered.

"Nothing at all to thank me for," she replied in a soft voice. "Just… be careful."

"I will." Deryne grinned. "Why does no one seem to believe me?" Kel chuckled as she stood, but her eyes were still worried.

"Because we all promised the exact same thing dozens of times before," she laughed. "And look where it got us." A laugh escaped Deryne as Kel walked to the door. She pulled it open, then looked back, eyebrows raised.

"But all the same, do _try _to stay out of trouble," she added. "Who knows? Maybe you'll be the lucky one." Then she was gone, and Deryne sighed. Her resting days were over.

She had to be dressed and down to the mess.

After all, haMinch would be wreaking vengeance for the chastisement from Master Numair.

No reason to help him along. He'd do just fine on his own without mistakes on her part.

* * *

AN: Reviews, please? I'm feeling a little discouraged... and I defintely need my muse for the next chapter. It's where stuff starts to get exciting... 


	11. Chapter 10: Yama's Festival

_Disclaimer: I ALWAYS forget this. So for all those times I've been and will be forgetful- I do not own Tortall. It's Tamora Pierce's. End of story. _

_W00T! I'm back and ready to write! Sorry for the terrible postings the last few weeks- I have completed midterms and passed with flying colors! Actually, more like freakish, soaring fireworks, but that even better!_

_So now I'm only worrying about regular schoolwork! Which is alright... I guess..._

_Thanks to those who responded to my shameful begging for reviews, including **SarahE7191**, **Lady Fae of Never Land**, **Heiress of Lohaust**, and **PrincessSolaria**. And gracias to my wonderful beta, **KyrieofAccender**, too. ;D_

* * *

_Chapter Ten_

_Yama's Festival_

_January 21st 477 H.E. _

"Queenscove!" Deryne jumped in the saddle, then looked over at haMinch guiltily. The man was scowling. Behind him, Kasem grinned manically.

"Sorry, milord," she said loudly, hearing the snickering of a few of the older pages before she bowed on top of Zephyr, who shook his mane impatiently. She winced at the blue magic flashed in her mind. It had been doing that, more and more- Her power had been itching at her for days now, bursting free of her control and bringing back all the information- the gudruna, Numair had called it- that she had sought to suppress- and succeeded in suppressing- until her Gift had broke free of her control again, more potent than ever.

They were putting their warhorses through their paces; Deryne was afraid that any more bright flashes from the galloping would blind her. She had nearly fallen off Zephyr the first time.

"Just because you've been lying around for a few days and Midwinter is soon is no excuse for half-hearted, lackadasical-" The rest of the training master's words were lost on Deryne as Cadel made a face behind Kasem. Aloin giggled before Laun smacked his arm. By the time haMinch's assistant had turned around, all three were straight-faced. But the squire was not finished with them; he shot a glare at Evrain, who was not as adept at hiding his mirth.

"Ghenset! You think you can sit there grinning like a duck?"

"I was not aware I smiled like a duck," Evrain replied eloquently, traces of amusement sparkling in his eyes. "But I'd rather be a grinning duck than a squawking hen." Deryne choked; was the page_ mad_? She saw Aloin's gray eyes went wide as murder flashed in Kasem's hard gaze, but before anything else could unfold-

"Two bells, Ghenset! Kitchen floors!" haMinch barked. "And one for Queenscove for inattentiveness!" Deryne groaned softly. "What was that, girl?"

"Nothing, sir," she said. HaMinch's large brown eyes narrowed; then he turned his back and bellowed to the mounted pages.

"Start again! Trot!" Holding back a curse, Deryne fell into line with her friends, her eyes watering as blue magic swarmed her senses. She didn't know if the tears were from the light… or something else altogether.

* * *

"Was I right to tell Aunt Kel I was sticking with this?" she asked Duskwing, running her fingers through his soft feathers. The kestrel did not answer; she had not expected him to. He- or rather, the Chamber that possessed him- had not spoken since the strange dream she had had… with the Nothing Man. If she counted that. After all, it had just been a dream. "I mean-" Rubbing her forehead, she stood and crossed her room to stare out the window. 

The sun was setting over the palace wall; the light blazed in her sight. An explosion of blue rushed over her as a cloud of sparrows shot up into the air, chirping loudly as they went. She closed her eyes, silently battling the power that flooded through her, waiting for it to subside.

"I could barely see, in the kitchens," she whispered as it died down again, remembering the ordeal she went through with Ev earlier that afternoon. The work had been easy, but the bustling kitchens had left their mark on her. She was exhausted from trying to block the magic from her mind, and her efforts had been for naught; each time, her power had seeped through her control. "What if my magic is just going to grow and grow until it destroys me?" Tears gathered in her eyes as she snorted; that would be a sick joke of the Trickster, to survive knight training and die from a Gift too strong to leash- She sniffed one last time, then pulled on her red tunic, straightening it. "And now, serving the first Midwinter feast of the year. I'm certain all those people and talk…." Her voice faltered as she remembered last year's first Midwinter night; nobles came from their fiefs from all over the kingdom- new young ladies were introduced to their sovereigns, wealthy merchants weaseled invitations to further extend their influence- Noise, finery and jewels that glittered so much that her eyes burned- The girl moaned, running her hands through her hair. "That prophecy of doom won't even have to wait 'til tomorrow. I'm not gonna make it through the dratted night."

* * *

"Thanks, Numair," she muttered as she brought her teacher and his wife drinks. The mage smiled, taking a glass from the tray. The moment he had seen her, he bound her magic. He had not been able to suppress it all, but- compared to the _gudruna _that assaulted the past few days- Deryne could manage with a few sparkles and the occasional outburst from the more boisterous nobles. 

"I admire your determination to control your power, Deryne," he said, black eyes twinkling kindly. "But this is ridiculous. Not here. I don't think I could have made it to the corridor outside with all this ruckus." Deryne smiled ruefully.

"I'm glad you came when you did," she told him. Then she bit her lip. "But… it _is _odd. Not being able to sense everything around me… not knowing what anyone is thinking…." She continued hastily, "Not that I usually know what everyone is thinking. Thoughts are usually protected by even the simplest mind, and they're easier to block out that everything else, like movement and voices, which are just out on the winds, free game for anyone-" Embarrassed, she closed her mouth. Numair's eyes brows rose, but he looked pleased.

"_Good_. That means you're getting used to it, even if you think it impossible to refine or control." He grinned. "We're making some sort of progress, then-" Daine cleared her throat, slipping her arm around Numair's.

"As nice as this is," she murmured, winking at the girl. "Deryne has duties to return to." Then her gray eyes grew serious. "Deryne, your parents have spoken with haMinch. He has allowed us to arrange some protection-" The page frowned.

"Um..." Protection? They really _were _worried about this prophecy...

"Don't worry about it now," the Wildmage said quickly, placing a hand on Deryne's shoulder. She smiled a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "We'll speak to you later, all right?" Feeling sick to the stomach, Deryne nodded and bowed before she turned away. Her heart pounded; her head ached.

Was she in danger? Was she going to die?

_Of course not, _her mind hissed scornfully, but the bile in her throat did not disappear.

If it was true… was there anything she could do about it?

* * *

Cadel looked up at his cousin, then smiled awkwardly before he averted his gaze again. Deryne sighed softly, leaning up against the post of her bed. Both he and Rikash had been in her room since dawn. 

Waiting.

The two of them and everyone else.

At least the adults had enough prudence to leave her alone when she was in her room, unlike her closest friends.

Even Inar had dropped in with a small Midwinter gift- a small focusing stone the color of her eyes. It could help a student with mediation exercises. He could have waited a few more days, but he needed an excuse to stop by today. To see if she was still alive. She snorted.

"What was that?" Rikash looked at her sharply, frowning. She shrugged, uncomfortable. Then she stood to stroke Duskwing's feathers, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. Daine had removed Duskwing's bandage the other day; his wing was as good as it ever would be.

"Nothing at all," she answered glibly. "It's just a little odd. How would you feel if you were told you would die today?" Though she tried focusing on the kestrel, her Gift still let her know that Rikash was scowling, his eyes narrowed from behind his blond hair.

"Don't say that," the mage apprentice hissed, rising to his feet. Bright blue light swarmed around him from his swift motions and furious words; they caused flames in Deryne's aching mind. She groaned quietly, raising a hand to her temples as her world spun. Numair's binding had broken earlier that morning; as calm and bored as she was, she was afraid to leave her room to seek him out.

"Don't move so quickly," Cadel whispered. "You know how she's been- everything-" His faint mind-voice invaded her head, taking over from where he had left off.

_Poor Deryne- can't help feeling all our motions- _

"And hearing all your thoughts," the girl added dryly. "While I'm_ trying _to block them out. Discipline your mind better, or I'll go mad, Cadel." It was the other reason for locking herself in the room, with only a prayer and formidable relatives protecting her from haMinch, who would have otherwise expelled her for having her cousin and life-long friend in the room. Every time she moved, the magic clamored in her head, demanded that she know about everything going on-

Numair had said this would happen, eventually. Her power would long for her Awareness when her mind was still not ready for it. According to the mage, Awareness was the power of sensing everything- focusing on _all_ the _gudruna_- surrounding her in flawless clarity. It was what she longed for; it was what she feared and loathed. But she was close to it-

And yet, the closer she got, the slower her progress was; Numair had warned her that it might take years from now to regain absolute control over her Gift. And lack of control was the last thing a knight needed-

_Do you _want _us gone, then? _The thought was softer than Cadel's voice. Apologetic. She grimaced.

"No. Better for me not to be alone." She feared that without them, every noise would turn into a warning, every shadow a silent attacker- She forced the thought away before she could panic.

"If someone _was _going to kill you," Rikash said sardonically. "They would've done it already. It's almost sunset." He rolled his eyes, his features illuminated by the colors streaming in the window. "Irnai's cracked-" He was better at masking his thoughts than Cadel, but Deryne swore she sensed the smallest, strictly-controlled panic when he spoke-

"Not the way to speak of the most powerful seer in a century's time," Cadel mumbled.

"Perhaps more," Deryne agreed quietly, but Rikash's eyes flashed.

"My apologies, if I don't believe it," he snarled. Deryne bit on her lip to contain a whimper as he spoke. His harsh tones tore at her- "But _I _don't tend to think that my friends are about to die- that sort of negative thinking will get you killed, if nothing else-"

"This coming from the one who's always got a scowl on his face," Cadel muttered. The strain was clearly getting on his nerves. He pushed his hair back with trembling fingers.

"Numair has the whole place surrounded in a Circle of Protection," Deryne reminded them, hoping Rikash would not explode again. "Daine has an army of animals spying. Your parents _alone _would be enough to keep me safe, Rikash. But then my father has added his own strength to the spells, and the Own and Riders are keeping eyes peeled…."

So the long hours passed, the trio waiting in silence. Cadel lit the candles on the desk and by the bed without a word. None of them had anything to say. Why clutter the quiet with meaningless words? Deryne was tired of sounds, anyway….

The candles were burning low when she finally noticed that her friends had drifted off to sleep. Cadel was snoring lightly in her bed; Rikash was sitting in her chair, shifting restlessly.

_At least he _can _sleep,_ she thought wearily. But the wind had kept her up, bombarding her with _gudruna_… keeping her awake. And aware.

_Comfortable? _Deryne turned her head towards Duskwing. She had discovered that- when the Chamber was inside the bird- the feathers seemed almost to turn to a pale, blue light in her mind's eye. She smiled. It was odd, how comforting the presence of a talking bird could be. She had thought only yesterday that she would be sick with nerves and worry from the threat and the prophecy. But she was fine, aside from the jittery feeling inside her that kept her wide awake.

"Not in the least," she murmured.

_Good. Trouble comes too swiftly. _She frowned.

"Now?"

_Stupid girl. _She looked heavenwards for patience. Being an immortal certainly did not make the Chamber being any more polite. _Don't you know the most dangerous part of the year is yet to come? _She snorted.

"Don't you know that you're more likely to get what you want if you actually explained stuff to me?"

_Midnight._ The Chamber sounded sulky. _My kind have always gloried in this time; you would do well not to. _

"I'm tired of you and your cryptic messages," she snapped, yawning. Her eyelids were oddly heavy, all of the sudden. She moved her head so that she leaned against the mattress as she sat on the cool floor. "I want to sleep-"

_Stay awake! _Duskwing let out a soft screech.

"Shush, you," Deryne muttered. There was something so peaceful, with the rhythms of breathing echoing around her.

_Deryne!_ But the Chamber's annoying voice was drowned out with the soft whisper of the voices- the _gudruna_- in her ears.

This time, though- the wave of magic stirring within her was too strong-

She was too tired to hold it….

And-her eyes closing- she drifted away, into unconsciousness, unable to hear the kestrel's cries.

* * *

Rikash stared down at his hand; a flower blossomed in his palm, glittering with the flame of his amber Gift. He smiled; his magic had not been that color in a very long time…. Though he dared not mention it to his father, the reddish-orange glow that had dominated over his Gift felt tainted, as though it were slowly suffocating him…. 

"It's just a color change," Numair had told his son. "It shows that your power is growing." Rikash had lifted his eyebrows at that.

"And that fire trouble?" He had not been able to create something _besides _flame, in more than a year.

"Just a little trouble with control; your Gift is growing too fast. You will slowly regain control, once it slows its growth." Rikash had snorted at that.

"I'm just that special, that this rare thing happens to me, of all people," he had replied sardonically. He had been surprised that his father had not scolded him for that nasty comment. Numair just sighed and shook his head before he had dismissed the boy.

They had been close. Once.

He was in a garden, one with roses and other flowers that he recognized but could not name. Sarra probably could, but she wasn't there….

It was just him and the small, sparkling pool in the center of the chaos of color. Slowly, he rose, his stiff muscles unbending as he strolled towards the glittering water. A flash of movement at the corner of his eye made him whip around.

No one was there.

"Hello?" he whispered. After a long moment of silence, he turned back to the water. Behind his distorted face, other images floated silently. Frowning, he looked up; nothing but sky above him….

… but when he looked back, the figures were still there. His brow furrowed, Rikash squinted, glaring back into the pool. Three blurred faces appeared before his eyes; one reminded him of Deryne-

Curious, he reached towards the water, towards his friend's features-

His fingertips eased into the cold water, straying towards the other two faces.

_Who-_

"You will never find out." Rikash whirled around, his hand still in the water; a woman with tangled, black hair gazed back at him, her eyes constantly changing color and shape as she glared at him. "How can you, when your power is tainted?" Ice filled Rikash at her words; his jaw set, he stared back at her angrily.

"Is it, now?" he snapped, forgetting his doubts of a moment ago. "I don't see a hag like yourself seeing anything as not tainted." The ugly woman laughed.

"Look for yourself, boy. You can't control anything." Unable to push aside a feeling of dread, Rikash looked back at the water. His eyes widened with alarm as the cold pool rose up in flames, flames from _his _hand; Deryne and the other two faces burned before his eyes- He tried to pull back his hand, but he could not move it-

He looked back at the woman, who extended a hand towards him. Chills ran up him as he saw that her fingers were slimy, hideous, shapeless-

"Who are you?" he croaked. She only cackled, a hoarse, dry noise that made him feel ill. When she finally stopped, she looked back up with black, dead eyes.

"Try not to kill anyone," she said sweetly. "Yet." Rikash frowned-

"What in Chaos-" The woman burst into another fit of laughter, shaking her head madly.

"What, indeed," she chuckled, looking up with eyes that were but red slits. A snarl escaped her lips; her hands shot forwards as pincers to grab Rikash and shake him. He screamed in pain as horror whipped through him, the hands cutting into his skin- "This is only a taste-" He struggled, trying to pull free. His Gift licked around the wounds, trying to protect him. But it only made them burn-

Then he was falling backwards, falling into the pool of flames- He was on fire, his Gift roaring-

"_Rikash!_"

His eyes snapped open; the cry had been Deryne's, but he could not see her- He sat up, looking around in alarm. Smoke clouded his vision as he stood.

He was awake. But suddenly, he wished that he was still dreaming-

The room was on fire. The flames from the candles licked the bed frame, the curtains and sheets burning-

His skin prickled in a very familiar way…. Feeling numb, he slowly turned his gaze to his skin….

Flames of yellow, orange, red, and amber all danced across his skin, erupting into the air around him. He tried to pull his Gift back, underneath his skin-

The fire only grew, turning his clothes to ash and burning his hair away- He swore, whirling around; Cadel and Deryne were at the door, fumbling with the lock- He took a step closer, then stopped as Deryne turned, her eyes wide in panic as she saw him.

It was then that Irnai's words hit him, so hard that he felt sick.

He could kill them.

_…you _have_ enough power to do something like that, even if you wouldn't. _

"Gods," he whispered.

_He_ had nearly killed them-

They could _still _die-

"Out of the way," he yelled. His friends scrambled away from the door as he narrowed his eyes, holding his palm out.

"Rikash! Don't!" Deryne cried, but it was too late; the all too eager magic sprung from him, slamming into the door and exploding, rocketing off of the wood in every which way-

That was when he remembered his father's spell.

It would have protected the door- made any spell bounce _off_ of it-

He watched as Cadel pushed his cousin to the side as the fire spread, blocking the door. He watched as Deryne fell into the burning wardrobe behind her-

Then the door burst open, nearly hitting him as his father ran in, the black Gift sweeping over Deryne and Cadel. Rikash's knees buckled in relief just as Numair Salmalin's gaze turned to him; his eyes widened.

Then he waved his hand and darkness rolled on Rikash, which he sank into, grateful for the cool oblivion, an escape from the light of the flames of chaos and death.

* * *

Rikash sat up, gasping. 

"Deryne! Cadel! Gods, I-" Firm hands pushed him back into the soft blankets.

"Shhh. Everyone's fine." His mother smiled at him. The sight of her gentle face gave him some comfort… at least he was here with her instead of being interrogated by his father…. He was in his room, the one adjacent to the family apartment. "Deryne is _fine_." Slowly, he lay back down, his heart's pounding slowing.

"I-" His voice was hoarse. "I set the room on fire… I didn't mean to- Gods-" He buried his face in his hands; his mother stroked his head-

His head. Slowly, he reached a hand up to touch his hair.

Not a strand remained. He groaned.

"_Nothing?_ This is just wonderful. Now I have a way to remember this for months to come."

"Just like your father." There was a soft laugh behind Daine's voice. "Your first concern is your hair." Rikash's face darkened; it wasn't true. He was nothing like his father-

"Of course, he wouldn't have had to worry about catching flame," he replied sourly, glaring up at the ceiling. "Or dreams where hags come to trick him into losing control-"

Instantly, Daine's face lost all signs of amusement.

"Hags?" she asked softly, her gray eyes harder than Rikash could remember ever seeing them. He moaned, rubbing his eyes. The last time Daine Salmalin looked at her son like that, it had been when he and his friends had left a frog in the bed of Lady Jenya of Hartsford. There had been no escape until she had had the entire story.

"I'd like to eat."

"No, I think we'll talk first." Rikash sighed, refusing to meet his mother's gaze.

"A hideous, nasty woman telling me not to kill anyone." He could see her scowl.

"I think I'd like to hear details," she said, steel in her tone.

"Why?" This time, the boy refused to be forced back down when he sat up. He turned away, climbing out of the bed on the other side. "It was a stupid dream, is all."

"Those 'stupid dreams' have prophetic meanings sometimes." Rikash rolled his eyes. Prophecies! Would they never stop talking about them?

"Sometimes," he said edgily. He grabbed a pair of breeches and pulled them on.

"Where do you think you're going?" Daine's sharp voice-one that usually stopped him in his tracks- only annoyed him further.

"Somewhere where I won't be bothered by people determined to find trouble everywhere they turn," he snapped, grabbing a shirt and turning back towards the door.

A huge grizzly bear glared back at him. He groaned. This was one of the many problems with having a parent who could shape-shift. He pitied Sarra; even with her own abilities, his sister would never be able to sneak out to meet a young man.

"C'mon, Mum. You can't tell me you are all so worried about Deryne that you're shooting the arrow before the foe's in range?" The bear did not move. "Great," he muttered to himself. "I just don't feel like talking. Not about it." Daine's muzzle turned back into a human mouth.

"You never do, Rikash." Her voice- lower and more of a rumble than usual- sounded sad. He shrugged.

"Nothing to talk about," he replied. Daine's dark eyes narrowed.

"Nothing to talk about? Do you want me t' start?" she demanded. "Deryne and Cadel were nearly killed-" Rikash could not help it; he flinched. They always blamed him, not that they were wrong-

Would they make up their minds?

"First you tell me they're fine, no harm done!" Rikash shouted, glaring at her. "Now you decide to point the finger at me? Because I_ clearly _called on my powers, I _obviously _started the fire on purpose, since _of course _I was trying to kill my friends-" Tears of rage gathered in his eyes, but they only made him angrier. His mother stared at him, her mouth open, her eyes sparkling with pity, with sympathy-

He didn't need them. He needed answers.

Wiping his eyes furiously, he strode past the enormous bear, managing to slide past her and escape the room, his fists trembling.

She did not follow.

* * *

Deryne frowned as the door swung shut behind Numair and her parents. They had just finished asking her what had happened. 

To be honest with herself, she wasn't quite so sure what had happened. One moment, the Chamber had been screaming at her- something she had not mentioned to anyone- and the next, Rikash had been on fire.

It had been the sudden heat that had awakened her. That and the burn on the side of her hand. She grimaced at the white bandage. There was another one around her waist, for the large burn on her back, when she had fallen into the flames….

She was sitting in a chair in a spare room at the end of the pages' wing with Duskwing, who had found Daine earlier this morning.

The girl looked over at the kestrel.

"I suppose that if I had been awake, none of this would've happened," she sighed. "I'll be lucky in haMinch doesn't make me take this year over, with all the lessons I'm missing." Duskwing glared at her, as if to say _serves you right_. "Alright." She held up her hands. "Next time, I'll listen to the bird." She chuckled to herself, then glanced across the room morosely. Gingerly she stood, making her way to the bed post that Duskwing rested on. His perch had been destroyed in the fire. "At least I'm alive," she whispered, digging her fingers into the kestrel's glossy feathers. "Happy Midwinter to me."

* * *

AN: Next chappie shall be a jump a few years, methinks. I would have skipped after the prophecy, except I figured that you should all know that she survives Yama's Festival. cough this time cough 

Now we get more interesting, I think... grins

Reviews...? Please...?


	12. Chapter 11: Rikash, Receptions, and Ravi

_Crap. Thanks for waiting so long. The MOMENT I have another chapter, I will post it to make up for the wait. I've been kinda... delayed. _

_Anyway, next chapter also includes what some of you asked for- CYNE CROSS-OVER! Yep. Read this chappie to find out. _

_Thanks to everyone reading this and those who reviewed. __ **Heiress of Lohaust**, __**SarahE7191**, **Lady Fae of Never Land**, **cahawk**- you guys are amazing! _

_Sorry, Kyrie, for once again not sending you the chappie beforehand. I feel bad that I've left it off as long as it is..._

* * *

_ Chapter Eleven_

_Rikash, Receptions, and Raving Drunk Knights_

_June 15, 477 H.E. _

Deryne smirked as haMinch shook hands with Inar. In five months, her Gift had died down, and faded to a faint buzz in her mind, one she could easily tune out, if she so chose. Now, though, she summoned it to make sure she missed nothing that the training master said to her friend.

"I must say that you have been an excellent student and will certainly be a fine warrior someday. Whoever claims you as his squire will be a lucky knight." Standing to the side of the room, away from the pair and Their Majesties, who were waiting to speak with Inar at the reception after the ceremonial welcome to the new squires, Deryne reflected that haMinch looked like he was having a tooth pulled. On the other hand, Inar- always so calm- kept his unwavering gaze on the training master, his face assembled in a polite expression that meant nothing. The moment that the man looked away, Inar's blue eyes flickered over to Deryne, Cadel, and Evrain. He nodded solemnly. Deryne replied with a grin and an exaggerated wave.

"What're the chances haMinch actually means what he said?" she drawled, turning to her friends. They would have to wait to congratulate Inar for having entered the squires' ranks; it seemed that the king wanted to speak with the boy. Evrain pursed his lips thoughtfully.

"Well, Inar doesn't run with us all the time," he pointed out. "So the only thing that old Owl Eyes might have against him is for sponsoring you, and he didn't do too good a job at looking after you, did he? He left that fearsome deed to us." Deryne shrugged.

"I know the palace and my way around better than he- or_ you_," she added dryly, poking Ev in the arm. "-do. Besides, he did an alright job. It's just that he- unlike _some _folks- perhaps to keep his mouth shut. If he has nothing intelligent to say, he doesn't fill the air with nonsense." Evrain's eyes widened in mock horror.

"You wound me, Queenscove," he rebuked, clutching his chest. Deryne rolled her eyes at the boy's antics.

"Inar doesn't like company," Cadel agreed, throwing an arm around his cousin's shoulders. "Besides, as everybody knows, Deryne doesn't need anybody looking out for her." The girl raised an eyebrow.

"This coming from the boy who still believes in Irani's cracked babblings?" she muttered, making certain her voice was low enough for Evrain not to hear. Cadel reddened.

"I-"

"There you are!" Aloin, his gray eyes alight with excitement, dashed over to the trio. "Guess what? You'll _never _believe-" Evrain's eyebrows rose.

"Calm down, runt," he ordered, amused. "Where's Meq?"

"Guess what?" the younger boy continued, his tiny, high voices rising to a shrill pitch. "Meq got a letter, a letter from his sister and she's got a friend who's ma is the queen's friend and did ya know that the Kyprian queen is Meq's aunt and-"

"_Whoa,_" Cadel interrupted. Ev snickered.

"Mind saying that a little faster, Strawhead?" he asked. Aloin shot a glare at him.

"She's coming _here_! In a few _weeks!_" the small boy exclaimed, as if this explained everything. Deryne sighed, then caught sight of a smiling Mequen making his way through the crowd, towards them. He smiled at her and- as he reached the group- flourished a letter.

"No doubt Al has told all by now," he said ruefully. Ev snorted.

"Yeah, but I didn't understand a word o' it. What's up?" Mequen's grin widened; he looked at Deryne.

"You know my sister, Cyne." Puzzled, Deryne nodded. She had even written to the girl, always adding a snippet at the bottom of Mequen's letters, and Cyne had given her entire letters in return. Cyne was clever, certainly smarter than her…. Then again, it probably ran in the family; Meq was quite the scholar. Deryne, on the other hand, could not see what interested him so much in the dry histories and complicated equations the master forced them to complete. "She is coming _here_, with a delegation from the Copper Isles!" Deryne's eyes widened. "And…." Mequen chuckled. "That's not _all…._" Evrain stared at the dark haired boy.

"Meq, you're near to singing," he declared incredulously. "I didn't think you knew how to do that." Deryne punched him in the arm; she wanted to know what was going on-

She was glad that Meq's sister was coming. Mequen freely admitted homesickness to their circle of friends, and he was often remote, staring off into the distance while the rest of the group was laughing about something Aloin had done or something Evrain had said. But now, his dark eyes glittered; he seemed unable to keep still.

"And…. One of her friends… is the _granddaughter _of the _Lioness_." Mequen watched smugly as Deryne's jaw dropped. Alanna the Lioness, Lady of Pirate's Swoop. A living legend. She was old now, but they said she could still cleave a man in two. But she never came to court anymore; since she had retired as King's Champion, there had been no need.

"The granddaughter?" she whispered, glancing around furtively. "What, did Lord Alan or Lord Thom-" Neither was married…. Mequen snorted.

"Gods, Deryne," he laughed. "Lord Alan has a twin, you know." Deryne's brow furrowed.

"I don't believe I did," she answered. "And, this twin- he-"

"She, Deryne. Lady Alianne is also my aunt's chief advisor." The girl winced, reflecting on how casually her friend referred to the queen of the Copper Isles.

"That's complicated. Politically-" Mequen sighed.

"That's_ why _they don't talk about the Lioness's daughter much. The Isles are your- our- allies, but when the woman involved is related to the heroine of Tortall-" He shrugged. "But Cyne doesn't know that; Merle is very secretive. I only know because when Cyne and her two closest friends come, the Lioness will make her first appearance in Court for some years, and Sir Myles decided that- since I might go to the Swoop with Cyne-"

"You're _going _to the _Swoop?!_" Deryne felt her eyes pop out of their sockets as she repeated his words. "To the _home _of the Lioness?"

"Definitely unfair," Evrain drawled, leaning on the girl's shoulder. Deryne twisted away from him and leapt back; the bigger page stumbled, nearly falling to the floor. Ignoring his indignant protests, she looked at Mequen.

"To the _Swoop?_" Mequen grinned.

"Maybe. If it's decided that they want to go there. The delegation- which includes Lady Alianne- was basically arranged so that Merle can see her grandparents. But no one knows that but you." His face grew serious for a moment. "I knew I could trust you lot to not say anything." Evrain smiled, then clapped the other boy on the back.

"I won't breathe a word, mate," he assured Mequen, before casting a glance at Aloin. "Runt here, though- next time you might want to keep the reins in on him." Aloin's pale, delicate features flushed.

"Hey! That, Ev, wasn't jolly, not at all-"

Deryne smiled as the boys began teasing the poor Aloin mercilessly. She walked away, leaving them to swap insults. She saw Numair and Daine; she smiled and nodded before walking up to them. She bowed, as custom dictated; when she looked up, she saw a smile playing along Daine's lips.

"Hello, Master. Mistress."

"Hello, Page Deryne." Daine's eyes sparkled with amusement; Deryne decided to play the formal game a little longer.

"May I ask after the whereabouts of your son, Rikash?" Numair snorted at his student's phrasing, then sighed.

"I'm not certain. I was getting worried about him, hiding in the library- but he hasn't been acting odd in months and now he isn't here where he said he would be- he wanted to talk to Inar-" Deryne nodded. Rikash and Inar had become good friends during the Gifted lessons the three of them took, often leaving her to practice spells with Master Salmalin. She suspected she was too young and too female and- most especially- too cheerful to be considered a comrade for that pair.

"I'll find him," she promised, grinning. "And drag him back by the hair, if need be." Daine winced.

"Please don't," she requested softly. "Any mention of his hair-" Deryne snickered.

"It's grown back," she pointed out gleefully. The woman sighed.

"Yes, but it's a sore spot-"

"Don't worry, Mistress," Deryne said in a sweet voice, her eyes glittering. "Rikash needs some salt in his wounds. Maybe it'll toughen him up a little." Numair sputtered, choked, then began to cough. Daine pounded him on the back, winking at the girl.

"I doubt it. Underneath it all, he's just like his da; a lil' softie." Deryne giggled, then bowed and walked away. She could try to use her Gift- this would probably be an easy way to experiment, with all the families here to enjoy their sons' night as they were rewarded for surviving four years underneath the rule of sharp old Owl Eyes- but she felt like wandering about. She felt almost certain that Rikash had _not _abandoned the reception for the library. Recently, there appeared to be no need for his surly habit of lurking in dark corners; his Gift had not exploded since the night before Midwinter. Only the other day, the apprentice mage had made a tiny flame dance in his palm and around the room without burning anything; his control was perfect, and Deryne guessed that it had something to do with the help Inar had been giving their friend.

Rikash seemed resentful of having his father teach him at times… perhaps, for simple, control exercises, he needed the help of someone stoic, someone who wouldn't annoy him or make him frustrated-

At that moment, Deryne caught sight of Inar, alone, as he weaved through the crowd. She managed to catch his eye; he jerked his head towards the outside hall before he disappeared.

Deryne walked along the perimeter of the room, stopping to speak to Sir Myles- and confiscate his brandy glass. He glared at her through bloodshot eyes.

"You'll thank me in the morning," she retorted, emboldened by the thought that he would not remember any insolent remarks she made in the morning. Sir Myles blinked, then smiled tiredly.

"Alan, you make me feel like an old man," he chuckled, taking a step and swaying. He grunted. "Perhaps I have… overindulged." He took Deryne's arm. "Help an old man back to his rooms, then, eh?" Confused, Deryne obeyed, holding the scholar up by the arm. Alan? But then all her thoughts were preoccupied with managing to keep Sir Myles from crashing into the tables and a group of gossiping young debutantes, who looked at the girl page as though she had the plague.

When they exited, Deryne looked up to see Inar waiting. His eyebrows rose at the sight of her half-carrying, half-dragging the knight. Without a word, he grabbed Sir Myles's other arm, and Deryne's burden instantly lightened. She threw him a grateful glance as Myles continued.

"Bloody night, all dark and- you know, Alan, you were right. Old Conte crooked, too powerful though, to make an enemy of. Gotta watch your back, Alan. He'll kill you. He's killed plenty who 'ave questioned him before, you know, and he'll do it again. Watch your back. Alex tried to kill you, but you don't want to hear that, do you? Underneath the duke's influence- once it starts, it never stops. " Bewildered, Deryne looked over at Inar, who stared at the man in horror. "Don't die, Alan. That's the first thing you gotta do. Gate of Idram- of course that scumbag would use that- the sword-" Inar's blond bangs fell into his face as the two of them- page and squire- looked at the old scholar, who yawned. "The Duke tried to kill Jon, yes, but he tried to kill you, too, Alan. Careful. But you _never _liked him Alan; you pegged him for a bad one from the start. That makes you dangerous… and that puts you…" Sir Myles's eyelids fluttered. "…in danger, too-" Then he collapsed on top of Deryne, who nearly fell with surprise. Luckily for her, Inar grabbed the man and threw his arm around his shoulder.

"Get his other arm," he muttered lowly to Deryne, whose mind was still churning over what the old drunk man had said. She obeyed without a sound.

Somehow, together, they managed to get him up the stairs, the only noise their footsteps on the stone and the occasional snore from Sir Myles.

They put him in his cushioned chair, up in his study. Deryne's face softened as she watched the man relax, his body recognizing the old companions. Then she slipped out the door after Inar. She shut the door behind them.

"He was accusing a Conte of murder," Inar whispered harshly. Deryne frowned.

"Yes, the Duke. Duke of Conte," she said slowly. "I think… Sir Myles has not gone into current history with us… not much…. But he tried to take the throne for himself, from the old king, Jonathon of Conte."

"Who was Alan?" Inar asked. Deryne's eyes widened with surprise, then she laughed.

"How silly of me," she chuckled, to Inar's puzzlement. "-for not realizing sooner. He must have thought I was Alanna. The Lioness," she explained. "-went by the name Alan of Trebond when she was a girl, in order to win her shield." The dark look on Inar's face blazed, then gentled.

"And… Alex?" he asked softly, his blue eyes wide. Deryne shrugged.

"One of the Duke's minions, I would suppose. Some man who tried to kill Alanna. She probably killed him." Inar's eyes narrowed again.

"You talk… very calmly about that," he said slowly, his northern brogue accented. "Pain… and suffering… and guilt." Deryne was reminded of the raiders, the ones that had killed his family-

Suddenly unable to look at him, she began walking back towards the stairwell. She heard him following behind.

"Have you seen Rikash?" she asked casually. "He's been hiding from his parents again."

"No, I have not. But he said he wanted to show me- show _you_- something." There was a long pause, and the pair began descending the stairs.

"Oh?" Deryne queried nonchalantly, going down two at a time.

"He would not tell me, either," Inar answered, a small smile in his voice.

"That worries me," Deryne replied in a dry voice, and Inar chuckled, his laugh like a boulder tumbling down a hill. "How many knights have fought for the great honor of having you as squire?" Inar let out a bark-like laugh.

"There have been several who have… requested me. Only one of them seems a decent fellow. The rest are conservatives." Deryne laughed.

"Well, that rules them out."

"Except that they seem convinced I will join their ranks."

"Tell 'em you sponsored me, and _then _maybe they'll leave you a-" Deryne yelped as she tripped; her feet twisted together and she fell forwards.

"Watch-" Inar grabbed her arm and righted her just before she tumbled down the stairs.

"Whoops. Thanks." Inar released her as Deryne laughed breathlessly, eyeing the last flight of stairs. "Falling down that-" She shrugged. "I'm just clumsy. Gotta be more careful. That would have been embarrassing." Without waiting for Inar's reply, she hastily made her way down the rest of the stairs, her cheeks hot.

Tripped over her own feet! Knights were supposed to be coordinated, graceful-

"Trying to scare Inar, Deryne?" The girl looked up to see Rikash walking towards them, a smirk on his face. "I'll admit, you stopped my heart for a moment there."

"That's just like you, Ri," Deryne muttered as both boys reached her side. "Come in just in time to make fun of me." Rikash ran a hand through his short hair, then shrugged.

"Sorry. I can't help it if you're tripping all over yourself whenever I come." She snorted, and Rikash grinned broadly. Deryne glared at him.

"You never look that happy. Did one of the debutantes declare her undying love for you?"

"Very funny," Rikash retorted, the smile still on his face. "Inar, I wanted to show you two _this_." Triumph in his amber eyes, the boy held his hand out to show his friends a small, flickering flame. "Yes, I know it's a flame. But just shut your mouth and watch, Deryne." Annoyed, Deryne closed her mouth. Her eyes flickered to Rikash's face; his brow was furrowed, and his eyes bore into the fire. She could see the flame dancing in his gaze-

She glanced back down at the light as it began to change. Slowly, the bright fire dimmed, fading and changing color-

Deryne's eyes widened as a tiny flower, its petals blood-red, appeared in Rikash's hand. Lost for words, she looked up into the young mage's gleaming eyes, his white teeth flashing in a brilliant grin.

"It- I-" A small smile spread across her face, growing as the enormity of this display struck her. "You did it," she whispered. "Gods, you did it, Ri! You changed flame into something else! You- you didn't torch it!" Rikash laughed.

"And it's getting easier! Watch-" Then, before Deryne's eyes, the small flower turned into a tiny feather.

"Ri, that takes so much _control_," she breathed.

"I know." If Rikash had been a girl, he probably would have squeaked, or danced. As it was, he stood tall and grinned like a madman. "And it's thanks to you, Inar!" Deryne spun around to look at the boy, who shrugged.

"I just gave you the idea, Rikash. It was entirely you," he said in his neutral, cautious voice. The other boy laughed.

"But I never would have thought of it! Da didn't either!" Then his eyes lit up. "I need to show him!" Deryne smiled, then stepped to the side to point to the reception.

"By the windows," she told him, and the excited Rikash walked as quickly as he could to share the good news with his parents.

"Because it would be undignified to run," she muttered under her breath as her friend yanked open the door and slipped inside, nearly knocking over an old matron exiting.

"What?" Deryne chuckled to herself, then looked at Inar.

"He always needs to be the serious one," she said. "The adult. The one who won't run or sing or even laugh." She smiled. "His older sister tells him to relax a little, but he's too stiff. He would have made a good conservative." Inar snorted.

"You should tell him that. Then run." Deryne grinned.

"I have. He just shoots me a look and sulks. I'm too cheerful to kill."

"Or maybe he ignores you because he feels guilty." Inar's eyes grew serious. Deryne pursed her lips.

"You're another one of those solemn lads." She poked him in the shoulder. "All scowls and no laughs. Guilt? Ri?"

"For nearly killing you." Deryne frowned at the mention of what had happened at Midwinter; they had told the curious crowd that one of them had knocked a candle over. Only Rikash, Cadel, and Deryne, and their parents knew- "Rikash told me. That's when he asked for my help with controlling his Gift." His mouth twisted wryly. "And that's when I knew how desperate he felt." Deryne grimaced. It was true; Rikash was not the type to ask anyone for anything. "We searched the libraries, talked to Sir Myles-" He shrugged. "Then, one day, the solution just hit me. I just woke up and knew it." Deryne waited, arms crossed.

She was not sure if she felt annoyed or not that Rikash had confided in Inar.

_He could have asked me for help, _she thought, irritated.

_But Inar said he felt guilty. _

_He shouldn't. He should at least be able to talk to me. _

"And?" she prompted, her voice sharper than she had intended it to be.

"I figured that it would help his Gift if he used a Link." Deryne frowned.

"Did Numair tell us about those?" Inar shook his head.

"No. A Link is just a mind tool- a control technique. If Rikash can figure out a way to relate the fire and the flower in his mind, make them similar-" Deryne's eyes widened.

"_Ohhh,_" she said. "I get it. And that helps him to create them-" Then she frowned in thought. "And… when he turns the flower into a feather-"

"He needs to form a Link between fire, the flower, and the feather."

"Sounds tricky."

"No more difficult than your work with _gudruna_. In fact, I'd say your control is harder to obtain." Deryne sighed.

"True." Then a small smile crept across her face. "But I also have more everyday, all the time power-" She turned her back to Inar and closed her eyes, letting her hold on the fade, letting her Gift wash over her- "You're tapping your fingers against your leg, now you're stopping, and you're startled- you didn't realize you were doing that, did you-?" She could feel his frown in the air, his face muscles clenching in an all-too familiar way, and laughed softly.

"That will be a useful Gift for your knight master to put to use," he rumbled.

"Yup," Deryne agreed cheerily, spinning back around. "So who's the decent knight asking for you?"

"Sir Clement of Brockmire. He's from the south, near the Desert. He's lived all over, so he isn't prejudiced against any particular sort of people, though I don't know what he thinks of lady knights." Deryne smiled dryly.

"The Bahzir aren't known for revering women. They think them inferior."

"Some think so, yes. But the Lioness was one of their shamans, a long time ago." The page blinked.

"I didn't know that. She was a lot, wasn't she? Guess that's why she's a legend." A shadow crossed Inar's features; his dark blue eyes flashed, sending a shiver up Deryne's spine.

"I cannot say I am a fan of legends," he said in a low voice. "More people die than live in them." Deryne did not have an answer to that; she looked away. "Sorry. I _am_ a grim sort of person, aren't I? All scowls-" Inar's face was as smooth and expressionless as ever when she dared to look up. "Sir Clement is a quiet man. He doesn't like parties, so I think we'll get along." Deryne smiled, wishing she could give a more meaningful congratulations. Or a meaningful apology.

She had forgot. Inar was not Rikash. Rikash was surly. Inar had reasons for what he said and thought. Inar had secrets, a darker past than she could imagine-

And yet she forgot that, far too much.

"Meq's sister is coming from the Copper Isles," she said in a bright voice, changing the subject. "Aloin is very excited." Inar smiled ruefully.

"It doesn't take much. When are they coming?"

"A few weeks is what Aloin said."

"Too bad. I'll probably be gone within the week."

"Me and Ri will miss you." Inar smiled.

"Rikash might, but he's stubborn and too practical to dwell on it. He'll be fine. And I can't see you being too miserable for long. Your Gifts are different from mine; Master Salmalin will have an easier time teaching just you now."

"Does Sir Clement have the Gift?"

"Healing. But when we come back for Midwinter, I'll certainly be in the library." Deryne snorted.

"Hiding from all of us during Midwinter? I think not. I'll have Ev drag you out." Inar raised an eyebrow.

"A page against a squire with battle experience? _Ghenset_ against a squire?" She laughed, then jerked her head back towards the party.

"C'mon. I want to see this Sir Clement. Besides, haMinch might notice that my pretty little head has been missing." Inar smiled, then followed her back into the main rooms.

Waving to Cadel, Deryne snatched a small glass of punch from a tray resting unattended and gulped it down. She closed her eyes, savoring the cool feeling against her throat.

"I don't see Brockmire," Inar muttered. "Help me look. He's got brown hair, some gray-" Deryne opened her eyes to look around and started.

The Nothing Man stood before her, his eyes bulging. He looked older, tired- but the mournful look, the hopeless one- was one she could not misplace.

"Deryne?"

She blinked; standing before her was one of the older noblemen, one who glared at her disapprovingly. She flashed him a smile in reply, then turned to Inar. He gestured towards a stern-looking man coming their way, his walk a no-nonsense stride that seemed to part the ocean-like crowd like magic. When his eyes fell upon her, however, Sir Clement smiled at her. Then he passed by the pair. Deryne watched him for another moment. His long, square face looked worn, tan and wind-whipped from years of knighthood, and there were sags beneath his eyes, but there was a toughness in his confident poise and board shoulders. She smiled.

"I like him."

"So glad you approve." She laughed at Inar's dryness.

"Of course you are. My approval is needed in all things. Only Ev's opinion doesn't count. C'mon," she said, patting him on the back. "Cadel and the others are waiting." Inar frowned, his gaze traveling to Kasem and Laun, who stood between them and a beckoning Evrain. Deryne made a face; the two boys were talking to the man she had mistaken for the Nothing Man and another, younger version of him.

"No doubt wrangling another squire job," she muttered, meaning Kasem. She did not want to talk about Laun, even if he was a scumbag. Even though he talked to Kasem far too much and turned up his nose at her, Cadel was still friends with him, and Aloin adored him, for some odd reason. "Just because his lord knight won't be healed and ready for the road for awhile doesn't mean Kasem should abandon him."

"Hmph." Inar picked up a glass. "I pity the knight to get him." Deryne rolled her eyes as they began to walk towards Evrain and the others.

"No doubt they'll both be pig-headed and dimwitted-"

"Squire!" Inar and Deryne both turned instantly to see the younger man Kasem was talking to gesturing. Laun did not look happy. Inar's eyes narrowed slightly, and Deryne suppressed a smile.

"I'll be back in a moment," he muttered, but Deryne smirked.

"You think I'll chicken out and watch from a distance? Not a chance." The look on Inar's face told her he thought she was mad, but both of them made their way to the noble's side.

"My lord," Inar said politely when they stopped next to Kasem. "May I present Page Deryne of Queenscove?" Deryne smiled broadly at the two conservatives, who looked like they would prefer if Inar skipped introductions.

"How do you do, my lord?"

"Yes, Queenscove," Kasem cut in, sneering. "I forgot that I wanted to congratulate you for making your way this far. A whole year-" Deryne smiled back as sweetly as she could, noticing that Inar's blank mask was faltering. Laun frowned.

"I'm certain that all the credit goes to you, Tynen," she answered, smugly noting the puzzled frown on the nobleman's face. She could not resist; her mind opened to his thoughts, and one in particular stuck with her.

_He told me she was a disgrace! But he lets her call him by his first name-?! They're _friends? Kasem's eyes shot daggers at her.

"In fact, my lord," Inar said quickly. "I wanted to thank you for your offer, but I have accepted Sir Clement's proposal. I will be leaving soon."

"Hmm. Pity." Deryne suppressed a maniacal grin as she spoke again.

"Perhaps you could make _me _your squire, sir, after I pass the exams," she said brightly, keeping her face as innocent as possible. Inar and Laun coughed loudly as the man blanched as though she had suggested he should eat Stormwing feathers; Kasem glowered. She bowed smoothly, barely managing to hold back a torrent of laughter. "Excuse me." Then she turned away, a wicked smirk playing across her lips. Inar caught up to her a moment later.

"Are you _insane_?" At that moment, Aloin walked up to them.

"What happened?" Deryne chuckled and opened her mouth to explain, but nothing but giggles burst from her as she doubled over. Several women eyed her, alarmed, but their expressions only made her laugh harder. Laugh until she cried.

"Are you _insane_?" Inar repeated, clearly wanting an answer.

"Probably," she gasped before succumbing to the fit of hysterical laughter again. "Did you see the look on his face-?" Sighing, Inar smiled and shook his head.

"Broakhale, you might want to keep an eye on your cousin. She has a way of causing trouble." Tears of mirth spilled from Deryne's eyes as Cadel raised an eyebrow.

"Gods, that hurts," she announced to the general vicinity.

"What happened?" Aloin repeated. Deryne looked at Inar, who shrugged, then elaborated. When he reached her words to the conservative knight, Deryne dissolved into giggles again.

"It was great- if you lot had seen it-" She groaned, running a hand through her hair, a dreamy expression on her face as she savored the memory.

"Just wait until Cyne gets here," Mequen said dryly, smiling. "I shudder to think what the two of them could cook up."

* * *

_AN: Yes, Meq should be quaking in his boots. After all, Cyne's not the only one coming..._

_... she's got two mates, too... Some of you might remember them... (evil laugh)_


	13. Chapter 12: Fights and Flying Forks

_And here is the chappie, as promised! Thanks to my beta, **KyrieofAccender**, for returning it so quickly! And **skyflyte12**, **SarahE7191**,** Heiress of Lohaust**, and** Eternityfalls**-_

_You guys are AWESOME!!! Keep it up!!! ;D  
_

* * *

_Chapter 12_

_Fights and Flying Forks_

"Your mother was a hag, and your da fathered Scanran bastards all up and down the coast!" Evrain bellowed, trying to sound fearsome. Sweat dripping from her brow, Deryne grinned widely, striving to hold back giggles. If she started laughing, she would drop her practice sword, and Ev would win the bout. She had already decided that she _would _win, this time. She could see Cadel and Aloin seated on the fence. Both of them were shouting insults at both Evrain and her, but she could not hear them over Evrain's loud comments.

"Is that the best you can come up with?" she needled. "Because I think lots of brothers and sisters would be great! They could help me beat you up in a dark alley. Not that I'd need their help!" A wicked smile played across her face as Ev glared. He lunged, and Deryne knocked his swing aside. But before she could follow with an attack, Evrain pulled back. A savage smile played across her face; he was getting tired. Now all she had to do was wait; last time she had ended up on her back with Evrain's sword at her throat because she had gotten too excited. She watched patiently as he flourished his sword.

_Wait… wait- _She gathered her strength; it would have to be fast and hard- and if she moved the wrong way, Evrain would hit her and she would lose.

"Come off it, Queen!" he groaned. "How many times have you won against me?" Without waiting, he continued, "None! And that's not the talk of a loser!"

"No," Deryne agreed cheerily. "It's not." With those words on her lips, she shot forwards, blade flashing.

Evrain's eyes flashed as he realized she was attacking; his sword whipped up to knock hers away, but Deryne smacked it down, pinning it to the ground. She bore her weight down, trying to force Evrain to let go. They had agreed no punches or throws-

Her vision flashed before her; she saw herself in a dark corridor, her eyes closed-

And that was when she _felt _the fist whip through the air-

"You cheating _git_!" she snapped, throwing her arm up in time to check the blow. Then- without a thought- she slammed her fist into his stomach. She heard him gasp, then kicked his blade out of his hand.

When she looked at him, he was seated on the ground, holding his stomach and looking up at her contritely.

"Very sorry," he muttered. The look on his face was enough to make her grin.

"No, you aren't," she said, chuckling as she shook her head.

"No, I am," Evrain assured her as she offered him her hand and tugged. "Although only because you saw fit to teach me a lesson." He stood, grinning sheepishly.

"Hmm. That's probably true-" She froze, remembering the blow. "Gods…." Evrain frowned as he stood.

"What?" She fell silent, remembering how she had _seen _his attack-

She had _seen _it in her mind-

A wide grin spread across her face, and she whooped in glee.

Perhaps this Gift was easier to train than she had thought.

* * *

_Nonsense. It will be a great deal harder than that. _Duskwing glowered at her, the telltale glow that told Deryne that the Chamber was in her kestrel lighting up the room. She groaned, plopping down on her bed.

"But- didn't you hear me? I _felt _it-"

_But you weren't trying to. _Duskwing flapped his wings. _Just because your Gift is developed enough to tell you when someone's cheating in a mock duel doesn't mean you can make it obey you when your head is about to be cut off by a Stormwing. _

Deryne made a face.

"Trying to make me feel bad? You're doing a damn good job of it."

_I am not here to boost your overconfidence. _The bird pecked at the tether that kept him on his perch. _Get this off of me. _Deryne obeyed, removing the leather warily; sometimes, if she wasn't fast enough, the Chamber would try to bite her. The moment she had, Duskwing launched into the air. Deryne dived to the ground to avoid being buffeted by his wings.

_I am here to keep you on your guard. _

"Was Irani wrong?" Deryne demanded for the thousandth time. Whenever the Chamber brought up his reasons for encroaching on Duskwing's mind, Deryne strived to trick him into telling her why. "Is the prophecy wrong? Was I lucky? Have I evaded fate? Or are the gods waiting for the next round to get me killed?"

_How should I know what those gamesters play at? _the Chamber asked as the kestrel perched in the rafters.

"You play more games than they do," she muttered, glaring right back up at the bird. The Chamber snorted.

_Believe me, human. When the gods begin a serious game- when they start playing for things that matter- you will be knocked flat by the deceit and craftiness involved. All equivocation, empty promises, and sacrifices. Usually human ones. _The keen eyes watched her carefully. _Meanwhile, _I_ am left with the job of keeping the number of human causalities as far down as I can. _

"What kind of answer is that?" Deryne demanded, half amused, half annoyed.

_The truest one you'll ever get, Queenscove. _Duskwing floated down from the ceiling, wings spread. _Now, to your exercises. If you want to keep beating the loud boy, you need to stay as strong as the boys._

* * *

"I can't believe you let me come!" Deryne exclaimed, bouncing up and down excitedly. "One person, and you chose me!" Mequen grinned at her.

"I figured that out of all the pages, Cyne would be gladdest to see you." The two of them stood behind Sir Myles. In front of them stood the royal family; King Roald and his heir, Leoraed- who was almost old enough to be a page- waited, protected by wary guards with huge shields, spears and longbows. They had been waiting for the better part of an hour for the ship the _Dovewing _to enter the harbor; due to the wind, the Copper Isles delegation had been standing out on the ship's deck for awhile, waiting for the crew to steer the boat to the dock. Deryne smirked.

"But of course. She hasn't come here to see any old boy. She came to see a female page. A _sensible_ type of being." Mequen snorted, brushing his dark hair out of his eyes as he stood on tiptoe.

"Of course this will take awhile," he muttered, more to himself than to Deryne. "After all, even after the ship goes in they have to greet the king and the prince and-" Deryne elbowed him.

"Relax. You'll see her soon enough, and then you'll be sick of having your sister tagging along within days." Mequen laughed.

"Never."

By the time that the ship had reached the dock and the mooring ropes had been tied, Deyrne had pinpointed a trio about her age. She could not mistake the granddaughter of the Lioness for anyone else; she had the legendary, brilliant red hair. She also had the legendary scowl of the bad-tempered lady knight; she had been arguing with the boy next to her from the time that Deryne could first pick out their figures. On her other side, a smaller girl with dark hair like Mequen's stared into the water, twirling her fingers as she gazed into the harbor's murky depths. Deryne followed her eyes; an unnatural, tiny whirlpool danced across the water. Curious, she sent out small whispers of her Gift; the breezes wandered towards the girl and the moving water-

Deryne started as her Gift weaved through the air between Cyne Hetnim and the place on the water that she was looking at. Something was _there_.

She sensed _power_, a fierce, deadly strength that could whip out of control at any moment-

It reminded her of the sensations that filled her whenever she gave herself up to her Gift. It reminded her of _her Gift_.

The power- somehow more solid and yet as fluid as her own- tangled with hers, seeping through it and exploring it- and _her_-

Deryne's eyes snapped up to the girl; Cyne stared back with unwavering, stunned blue eyes as brilliant as the sea.

The page shivered.

"Meq," she whispered hoarsely, unable to break the undeniable, potent connection between her and Mequen's younger sister.

"What?" She could hear the frown in his voice. She reached out and gripped his arm.

"You didn't tell me she had the Gift."

* * *

"Brand, you're an idiot. No one cares if you can balance a fork on your palm." Aloin watched with wide eyes as the red-haired girl smacked the utensil from her good-looking friend Brand, who yelped as it went flying out of his hand and across the table, somehow managing to land in Evrain's mug. The contents of the cup splattered across the table, forcing half the table to leap to their feet, reaching for napkins, things that were rarely found in the pages' dining hall.

As Deryne smiled, her eyes found Cyne Hetnim, sister of Mequen and best friends with the two newest palace troublemakers. Busy fighting a smile that threatened to cross her face, the dark-haired girl kept her eyes fixed on her plate from her place across the table.

"Merle!" Brand squawked, his ears darkening. "I had it that time!" The red head snorted, tossing her curls.

"You said that the last ten times," she reminded him, rolling her hazel eyes and picking up her own fork to stab a piece of meat.

The Kyprian delegation had arrived a few days before, and Brand Sibigat and Merle Crow were already at home among the pages. Few of the boys had gone home to their fiefs for the summer; the foreigners had aroused far too much curiosity. But Cyne Hetnim was far more intriguing to Deryne, even if she was quieter than her companions, who had arrived on the Corus docks bickering and insulting each other.

Cyne looked back at Deryne and smiled back, green-blue eyes gleaming.

Something about her reminded Deryne of herself. It was the oddest thing; Cyne was very quiet in the large group of pages who had adopted the trio, certainly nothing like her…. And yet she felt- every single time she caught the other girl's gaze- like they were on the same page, thinking the same thing. She only felt that way when she was with Rikash or Cadel- and they had been her friends since they were infants.

It had to be that strange connection Deryne had felt when she had probed the other girl's Gift. Since then, she had been careful about using it when Cyne was around, and she not noticed any telltale signs that the Copper Islander had used her Gift again, either.

And then there was her eyes. Cyne's eyes were eerily colored, and when Deryne was next to her, the pigments seemed to glow and shift in her irises.

"Yeah, kinda like yours," Cadel had teased his cousin when she had mentioned it to him. It was probably true; she had no business talking about other pairs of eyes when hers were so weird.

"My apologies," the Kyprian said to Deryne in a low voice. "My friends never learned their manners." Deryne's lips twitched.

"Neither did this lot," she said dryly, elbowing Aloin, who sat in her right. He shot her a glare. "Look at this. No respect for the ladies."

"You ain't no lady," Aloin retorted darkly, provoking a laugh from the table as he massaged his side. "No lady elbows a lad like that." Deryne rolled her eyes.

"Yeah. And no knight ever whined about a tap in the ribs." There was another burst of laughter and catcalls, and Evrain leapt on Aloin, knocking him off his chair to wrestle him to the ground.

* * *

Laughter echoed through the halls outside the mess; leaning up against one wall, a handsome young man sat on the floor, playing on a worn, old chess set, his opponent invisible. His hand lingered on a white bishop for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. Then, gingerly, he lifted it and moved it across the board. Lounging beside him, a golden-skinned woman played with her dark locks of hair, her firey eyes bored.

"I'm tired of waiting," she drawled in a soft whine, looking up at her companion. "She plays with you, and I don't like it-" Frowning, the man held up a hand to silence her as one of the black pieces rose into the air of its own accord. A pawn.

His frown deepened as the black piece moved into position against the bishop. On the attack.

"That… is not good," he said in his low, husky voice. "Not good at all…."

* * *

"Deryne!" Roused from her thoughts, the girl looked at Numair Salmalin, who was scowling.

"You weren't meditating," he accused her. She sat straighter with indignance.

"I beg your pardon, sir? How could you possibly think that?" Numair snorted.

"It might have something to do with my calling your name and you not responding. If you were immersed in your Gift, you would have heard the slightest breath, let alone a normal voice." Deryne's innocent façade fell.

"Oh." She should have known he would say something like that. She shot a glare at Rikash, who- though his eyes were still closed- was smiling faintly. "Hey! He isn't paying attention to his 'center of being' either! Look at him!"

"It is a little hard to focus with you squawking," Rikash mumbled, his grin more prominent now. "What's up? Mediation never bothers you-"

"Yeah, except-" Deryne cut herself off. Numair's eyebrows rose.

"Except?" he prompted, voice mild.

Except for Cyne Hetnim, who unnerved Deryne more than any girl her age should. They were already good friends- Deryne had even suggested sneaking out one night to the library for certain, unabridged texts of some of the crueler rulers of the Copper Isles- Cyne wanted to learn more about the histories, and Deryne loved the idea of possible risk and excitement involved. Cyne had wanted to go tonight, but the page had had Gifted lessons.

"That's right," Cyne had said carelessly, her eyes wary. "You have the Gift." There had been an awkward pause for a moment, but then the Kyprian had plunged on. "I felt it, when we arrived." Deryne sized her up carefully; curiosity and a morbid sense of dread fought within her mind. Curiousity won, as per usual.

"You can sense Gifts?" Cyne had frowned at this, her eyes narrowing.

"No," she replied after a moment. "I don't."

"_Deryne!_" Startled, she glanced up at an exasperated Numair. His son's eyes glittered with amusement, their iridescent hues of amber and gold most obvious when he engaged in spells.

"Sorry," she muttered. "It's just- Meq's sister, from the Copper Isles-"

"Cyne Hetnim…." The mage looked puzzled. Deryne pursed her lips, unsure of how to phrase her next few words.

"Her Gift… is strange. It bothers me," she finally admitted. "It's very-" She struggled for a word. "-raw," she finished lamely. "Powerful." She cleared her throat. "Sort of… like mine.

* * *

Cyne wandered through the dark library, her heart thumping loudly. She had nearly shrieked when she saw a shadow move out of the corner of her eye; it was her own fault, her own candle, that had caused the movement.

Perhaps she should have waited until morning- sneaking out at night was stupid when she could do it just as well alone-

She was not the type to walk about in a deserted, silent room full of dust and books and plenty of potential hiding places at night. But Deryne had been so excited- the excitement had rubbed off on her, and look where it had lead her!

No, if she were to come in here again at this time, it would be because that page _dragged _her in.

Mind resolved, she turned away from the archives she had been headed towards, and walked back towards the exit. Shadows moved around her, but she kept walking, scolding herself for acting like a ninny-

That was when someone grabbed her, and she screamed, loud and clear.

* * *

_AN: Uh-oh! What's happened this time?Sadly, you shall have to wait and find out. _

_O _


	14. Chapter 13: Kidnapped

_AN: Alright! Here we are! Thanks to my reviewers, **skyflyte12**, **SarahE7191**, **Eternityfalls**, **PrincessSolaria**, **sarralynsalmalin**, and** Heiress of Lohaust**! And my great beta! _

* * *

_Chapter 13_

_Kidnapped_

Merle Crow yawned, but she could not sleep for the life of her. She was too excited; tomorrow she would see her grandparents and her uncles-

Her mother had hinted that they might all go to Pirate's Swoop, if they could wrangle it without causing suspicion. Merle still remembered the last time she had been in the fortress, on the sea coast. She had stood on the ramparts, feeling the wind as it washed over her…. And she had flown up and down the coast, watching as the waves pounded on the beach, stemming on into endless eternity.

She was a shape-shifter, which was something her family had never revealed. The queen knew, and Sibigat- a close friend of her parents and father of one of her best friends- knew. Her father, Nawat Crow, had been exactly what his surname suggested: a crow. Kyprian crows were favored by the Trickster, the patron god of the Isles, and were gifted with the power to change into humans. Nawat had fallen in love with Alianne of Pirate's Swoop- then masquerading as Aly, a slave taken from a Tortallan fief- and abandoned his feathers except for rare occasion.

And Merle had inherited the second shape, able to change since birth. Though she would love running around on the Swoop's beaches with Cyne and Brand, she hoped she would be able to give them the slip so she could go flying. The Isles did not have the long coasts that Tortall had… and there was something calming about the long, endless stretches of sand and water as opposed to the round islands. The Tortallan coasts were reassuring, ancient and persistent, something that had been there and would be there for centuries to come.

Maybe she ought to go and see Cyne was still awake. Probably not-

A small smile flickered across the girl's face.

Well… if she _was_ asleep… that would be just too bad for Cyne.

* * *

"Gods damn it, Cyne!" Cyne found that she would rather watch the floor than a furious Aly Crow. The usually laid-back, keen-eyed spymaster was patient with the shenanigans of her daughter and her friends, but when she _did _get mad…. "How in Chaos- look at me! _You look at me!_" Timidly, Cyne met the blazing hazel eyes of her aunt's dearest friend. "I told your aunt that you would be _safe_," she hissed. "How in Chaos am I supposed to keep you that way when you're cavorting through the night? Tell me!" The girl felt like sinking through the floor; Merle's mother was right, as usual. It was unsafe, as well as stupid, to wander around. 

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, unable to help letting her gaze fall back to her feet. She heard a loud sigh, and her eyes darted up to see Aly running a hand through her hair.

"Thank the gods that I was guarding your room." Cyne looked up, dumbfounded. The woman raised an eyebrow. "You thought I would leave you alone for a moment? After the first week or so, I'll let someone else take over." The girl asked the first question that came to mind.

"When do you _sleep_?" Aly's smile was grim.

"You think I can't survive on a few naps a day?" she asked dryly, putting a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Back to bed with you. And if this happens again, I swear I will hang you by your toenails in the dungeons."

* * *

Deryne wandered back through the hall after lessons. Several servants passed by; she smiled and waved to them. 

Night was the best time for her Gift; everything seemed more powerful to her, everything less cluttered by the harsh light of day. The wind was alive-

Sighing, she made her way back to the pages' hall. She let herself in quietly.

"Well," she announced, turning to lock the door. "-now Master Numair is all curious about Cyne. Knowing him, he's probably going to assault her tomorrow with all sorts of questions, and it's all my fault-" The Chamber did not answer. She sighed. "Of course you wouldn't be here- I wanted to ask you about her, and you're conveniently-" She paused in mid-stride towards Duskwing's perch; the bird was not there. Her brow furrowed as her eyes fell upon the open window. She swore. "-gone. Really gone." Groaning, she headed back out.

She hated waking Daine up.

* * *

Merle banged on Cyne's door; there was no answer. She scowled. Cyne was a light sleeper; she always woke when her friends knocked. 

Cyne wanted to ignore her? Fine.

Reaching up to her hair, the girl fiddled around until she found the tiny pieces of wire she kept as lock picks. It took the work of a few moments to unlock the door. She shoved the door open, irritated.

"What's-" Her annoyed voice rose to a scream as a man dressed in black, his face masked, stepped out of the shadows.

Something hard hit her on the back of the head; Merle reeled, then collapsed as another attacker stepped up from behind the door, brandishing a small, gleaming knife.

* * *

Deryne's Gift slowly spread through the palace and the grounds, seeking any sign of the missing kestrel. The girl sighed as ripples of soft, gentle sounded returned to her, but nor signs of Duskwing. 

"Why?_ Why _must that _stupid _bird-" Deryne stiffened as a scream shot through her magic, its volume growing as it entered her mind. She winced, biting her lip as one, hard motion- more painful than the shriek roaring through her head- silenced it. As she stumbled, sagging against the wall for strength, the Chamber's voice bellowed in her ear.

_Queenscove!_ It was a sharp, furious demand, one that took no thought to understand. Still grimacing from the clamorous voices her mind had forced upon her, Deryne broke into a run, letting her Gift call her towards the scream.

* * *

"Stay here!" Aly barked at Cyne as she whipped out her knives and pounded on the door. She tried the handle; the door opened, but did not move more than a crack. Something heavy was holding the door shut. A rancous of shrieking and struggling from inside met her ears. She swore, then slammed her foot into the hard wood. "Help! Guard! _Guard!_" 

Deryne rushed onto the scene as several palace guards came from the other direction, all summoned by Lady Alianne. But Deryne also felt Duskwing's presence, through that crack- She could hear him, too-

"Someone screamed!" the copper-haired woman snapped, throwing her weight against the door. "And someone blocked it!"

"Out of the way!" the large, stern guard ordered. Ignoring Aly's skeptic, raised eyebrow, he nodded to his two companions. "One, two-"

On_ three_, they ran at the door and thrust their weight forwards, straining to open it. The kestrel was still screaming loudly. Aly's face was dark.

"We need a mage," the woman said sharply, her eyes falling on Cyne, who stood a little farther off from the others. The girl paled, her eyes widening. "Can you-"

"No," she whispered. "Don't ask me to-" Aly growled out a curse, then seemingly saw Deryne for the first time.

"Girl!" she snapped. "Get a mage down here-" Deryne wet her lips; Duskwing's cries echoed in her ears. "Girl! Gods damn it-"

_Open it! _the Chamber commanded. _Open- open- Now, Queenscove!_

Deryne closed her eyes, summoning her Gift. It stirred through the air; the hairs stood on the back of her neck. It uncurled itself lazily, slipping from her into the growing breeze in the corridor.

"Are you daft?" the woman bellowed. "I-" She took a step towards the guards, who faltered at her flashing eyes. "What are you waiting for? Go get one!" Power grew in her mind; Deryne's eyes watered as she extended a hand towards the door.

_Yesyesyes-_her magic whispered, struggling against her hold as she awakened it, focused it-

-and released. It roared through her, slamming into the door with an enormous _bang_. The door smashed open; the wardrobe holding it shot backwards and fell over.

Deryne dashed forwards in the same moment as the woman from the Copper Isles, into a room where Merle lay by the bed, unconscious, and Duskwing flew, screeching at a masked man clothed in black. Deryne could not help a small, grim smile; the kestrel looked a _lot _bigger when he was on the attack. But the intruder had been warned by the crash; Deryne suspected that Queen Dovasary had heard it back in the Isles. Seeing Lady Alianne, he turned tail, leaping out the open window just as the woman dove at him.

Aly Crow swore, shaking her fist as Deryne walked over to the bedpost by Merle, where Duskwing had settled.

_Thanks,_ she thought as she knelt next to the girl. She looked like she would be fine…. It seemed like she was only sleeping; her breath was even, and her expression peaceful.

_Deryne-_

"She's fine, I think," she said out loud as the woman came over to see her daughter, her hands shaking with rage. Deryne did not blame her._ Deryne- _She ignored the bird; he could wait.

"I can't believe- I left and- she could have been _killed_- how-" The woman's face was pale as she stroked her daughter's hair. Deryne stood and reached out to pet her kestrel. She yelped as he bit her.

_Deryne!_

"What?" she hissed, not caring if Merle's ma thought she was crazed or if she was being silly for getting angry. Hero or not for getting her to the room in time to save Merle, a _bird_ possessed by a _room _was _not _going to yell at her!

_Gods damn it, I've been trying to tell you-_

"What?" she snapped, irritated. "If this isn't important, I'm going to use your pinfeathers as-"

_There were two, _the Chamber snarled, a blue gleam stirring in the kestrel's eyes. _Two assassins!_ Deryne frowned.

"So? The other one ran off before we came in-" She stiffened as the Chamber's implications sank in.

"What are you talking about?" Aly demanded as a gasp escaped the girl's lips. Without bothering to answer, Deryne whipped around and sprinted out of the room.

"Cyne!" Dread formed a heavy pit in her stomach, even as she argued with her treacherous thoughts.

_No, she was standing right there, she was right out there with us- _

Eyes wide, Deryne stood in the middle of the corridor, looking both ways, Duskwing fluttering above her head.

Cyne was gone.

Without waiting for Aly to catch up, Deryne sprinted down the hall, her feet pounding against the stones. She could sense their presence- she summoned the breezes and ran even faster-

If she lost them-

Aly's calls faded in her ears as she whipped around one corner and down one corridor and up another- letting her Gift control her steps.

She was close, so close-

_Stupid girl! _Duskwing shrieked. _Don't-_ As she whirled around the corner, Deryne slammed into a huge, warm body. Before she could look up, a sweet, sickly smelling cloth was forced into her face.

She inhaled sharply in surprise; the scent invaded her nostrils, her mouth, choking her-

She coughed as her world tilted; then- eyes rolling- she stumbled into her captor's arms. The last thing she heard was the kestrel's frantic cries as she succumbed to darkness.

* * *


	15. Chapter 14: Nothing New

_Thanks to my reviewers, especially **Eternityfalls** for those threes saves. (That's what happens when I don't proofread!). All of you are amazing. I can't tell you how much they help. (and the more I get, the faster I write!)_

_This is what happens when I write cliffies; I get more reviews! (evil grin) Guess that means there'll be more of those coming up! Thanks to **abyssgirl**, **SarahE7191**, **PrincessSolaria**, **Eternityfalls**, **Shang Leopard**, **Heiress of Lohaust**, **cahawk**, and my beta, **KyreofAccender**! I have the next... 2?3?... chappies, so maybe if I get, say... 10?... reviews, I'll post the next chappie sooner than the next week._

_Eternityfalls- Well, I love the false cliffies. Luring you into a false sense of security, and then tossing the real action at you. ;p Thanks again for the typo-thing! I hate typos. I'm a beta, so it makes me feel hypocritical, I guess... _

* * *

_Chapter 14_

_Nothing New_

"Deryne?" Deryne moaned softly; her head ached and she could barely think, let alone get up…. Her throat was dry, drier than she could ever remember- She shifted, suddenly aware of the hard stone beneath her. "Don't move- here, drink this-" Dazed, the girl obeyed as something was put to her lips; she drank greedily. The water eased the pain in her throat. Groaning quietly, she fell back; it was so dark…. "Deryne?" The voice was panicked.

"Don't worry," she mumbled under her breath, unsure if she had actually said it aloud or had just thought it. Then, before she could hear the answer to her words, blackness swept over the girl, and she fell back into a deep sleep.

* * *

Cadel watched silently from his spot inside the cabinet as his uncle paced in the king's study. Leoraed was an all right fellow; Cadel had run into him before the meeting had began, and the Conte prince had helped him sneak into the room, on the condition that Cadel tell him everything. The disappearance of a member of the Kyprian delegation_ and _a page was a rare, juicy bit of gossip that _everyone _seemed to know about but _nobody _knew the true particulars of. 

King Roald sat at his desk, a stern frown on his face, while Lady Alianne of the Isles shook with rage.

"Your negligence," she snapped. "-had led to this! Has led to-" She inhaled sharply, tapping her fingers against her waist.

"My lady," the king said grimly. "You must understand- you assured me that there would be no need to increase security, and I was not aware that there was that much sentiment against your queen and- indirectly- her niece."

"And who's fault is that?" she volleyed back. "Don't you have undercover spies at work? Shouldn't they know what is going on-?" Her eyes narrowed. "So this is what happens when my father retires-?" Cadel frowned as Roald shot the copper-haired woman a look. Her father…. The husband of the Lioness…. George Cooper, was it? The commoner turned noble? His mother did not know him well, but Uncle Neal had been close to the man. He would have had to have an ally in that household when he had been Lady Alanna's squire.

"I assure you that _everything _possible is being done as we speak. The Wildmage and her husband are both at work; I swear that there is nothing they will not uncover. Cyne- and Deryne," he added with a look at Neal of Queenscove. "-will be back with us within hours."

"Unless they're already dead," the Copper Islander snarled, her fists clenching and unclenching. "Incompetent fools on guard came to my assistance- when there is a foreign delegation in your palace, you ought to have your best men-" She reached a hand up to her hair, then brought it back down. "I want a word with your spymaster, the head of the palace guard-"

"I dare not, lest they be decapitated after you are done with them," the Tortallan king answered dryly. He held up a hand as a furious glare turned on him. "But after seeing them, I think you might calm down." Lady Alianne's eyebrows rose. She did not seem curious or placated.

"What I don't understand-" Cadel's uncle paused for a moment as the attention of the king, Lady Alianne, and the numerous other, important individuals in the room fell on him. "How- why is Deryne mixed up in this?" he asked weakly, running a hand through his hair. "All I am told is-" Cadel watched eagerly; this was _exactly_ what _he _wanted to know!

"She was with me when we broke down the door," Lady Alianne said curtly. "Then, all of the sudden, her bird starts squawking and she freezes. Then she _runs _outta the room like lightening, yelling for Cyne. I tried to call the girl back, but she just kept running and I lost her…." She pressed her lips together tightly. "If I had been able to follow her, I would have found the puss-boiled blackguards. Gods curse them-" She slammed her hand down on the desk with a crash; the king's scribe flinched.

"Surely they had a motive," the king soothed, putting a hand on the woman's shoulder. "They would not have kidnapped the two girls only to kill them later. They would have just killed them on the spot." Alianne was still not convinced; she shook her head. "I already told you; with Master Numair and Mistress Daine, we'll have them in hours. Their skills are-"

"I am aware of their talents," Alianne said sharply. "You seem to forget that they- and your parents- were second parents to me." Cadel leaned forwards, intrigued. Rikash's parents were _that_ close to the Lioness? He had not known that-

Chills ran through him; he was growing up among legends, and all of them seemed to act so casually about everything they had done. Lady Alanna, her husband, the old King Jonathon of Conte and his queen Thayet- who had taken up traveling through the realm, visiting their people- his mother, Daine and Numair-

_Too bad I'll have to lower the expectations for the future, _he thought darkly. His lips twitched in a dry smile. _I'm just a son, a boy trying for his knighthood… just like every other boy here…. _

_Nothing special. _The first bell of the afternoon rang; he jumped, nearly bumping his head against the cabinet. He winced; that had been a near miss. He could have been caught-

"I will have to leave you," Roald said apologetically. Neal nodded, muttering something about patients in the infirmary. Cadel watched as the men and women excused themselves with a bow or curtsy as the king made his exit until only Lady Alianne was left to glare at the closing door. Then she cleared her throat and chuckled.

"Come out, boy," she ordered. Cadel's eyes widened in shock. "I would be terrible at my job indeed if I couldn't tell when a young page is eavesdropping." As Cadel gingerly pushed open the door and fell out onto the floor in an attempt to avoid hitting his head. "How in Trickster's luck were you able to sneak in here?" she asked. The page rose hastily, turning red, and bowed lowly.

"I had help, my lady," he said nervously, knowing that Leoraed would not get in serious trouble, even if Cadel _had _been planning to pin the blame on him. Which was ridiculous, of course. It might have been the prince's idea, but Cadel was the one who had decided to follow through with it.

"Why?" Her hazel eyes watched him shrewdly; she probably recognized him. The boy swallowed heavily, wiping his palms on his tunic.

"Begging my lady's pardon, but Deryne is my cousin. Well, our fathers are cousins," he amended quickly. "She's got bad luck, and-" He fell silent as the woman- so grim and frightening before- burst into guffaws of laughter. She clutched her stomach, leaning against the king's desk for support.

"Bad luck?" she choked. "I think so-" Then Cadel frowned.

"Why would the king allow an ambassador in his study alone?" he asked, puzzled. "Tortallan secrets-" Alianne snorted.

"As if he could keep anything from me for long," she muttered, and when Cadel met her confident gaze, he felt inclined to believe her. He shivered, thanking the stars that the Copper Islands were on their side. "But I was born here, and I have family here- as long as it does not endanger Dove and her heirs, I have no reason to hurt Tortall." Then she chuckled. "But that doesn't mean they would trust the Isles' sp- one of Dove's closest advisors," she amended. "-with anything. I have to _earn_ information." Her eyes glittered as she confided in Cadel, "This is the scribe's study, and there is _nothing_ of importance in here." Cadel flushed.

"Oh." Lady Alianne ran her hand across the rough wood of the desk, then sighed.

"And since _you _didn't hear anything important, I suppose I can let you go without a blood oath." A wry smile wormed its way onto her face as Cadel blanched. "A jest, youngling." Then, patting him on the shoulder, she meandered over to the door. When she opened it, she paused to look back. "I believe Deryne is held somewhere in the city. And I don't think these men are looking for a ransom, though gods know what they_ do _want. Perhaps if someone could figure that out…" With one swift wink- one so quick Cadel thought it a trick of the light- she slipped out and closed the door behind her.

* * *

_There are things that can be heard on the wind… echoes…. _Deryne looked around; she stood on a white cliff covered in strewn holly branches, overlooking the sea. The smell of a rainstorm and lotus blossoms mixed with the potent brine of the ocean. 

_History… everything ties into the future… everything has origins in the past…._

Her mother said that sometimes. _There is nothing new under the sun. _

The sun's light bathed her in pleasing warmth. Suddenly, she was reminded of Rikash. He had always loved playing outdoors, when they were little…. She had, too….

The breezes whispered to her as they played across her skin, slowly increasing as gusts grew stronger and stronger-

_Nothing Man, nothing, murderer-_

_Swoop, Trebond, magic, library-_

At first, she had been curious, but the eager, swift hisses began to make her head sway, her stomach churn-

_Fire, Yama, flames, burning-_

_Sea, ship, wave-_

_Duke, Queenscove, Alan, treachery-_

And despite their littleness, their gentleness, their quietness… they would not let her go. She tried to twist free, cut herself off from the onslaught, but the magic only held her tighter, forcing more panicked, pined cries-

_Knighthood, death, betrayal- _

_Killer, destruction, sickness, _

_Waiting for you… waiting for them…._

She tried to close her mind, but she couldn't- the voices echoed and mixed together into a roar of nonsense-

_Fire, water- _Irani's screams came back in a haunting, lilting moan that set her nerves on fire-

_…how shall we stand? Only three are awake- no, four! But he only plays with flower petals! _

_… restore glory… rely on their Chosen-_

An image of a lovely young woman with dark hair filled her mind, then one with a feckless, grinning man running his hands through his blond hair, then one of an ethereal, green-skinned woman dripping with water-

She struggled against the visions and the voices that attacked her, tore at her mind-

_No more! _she commanded in a pained cry. _Don't- no- _She would explode if she heard anything else-

"Deryne!" The girl sat up, head and heart pounding. She gasped.

She was sitting in a dark, stone room with shackles. Shackles that were secured around her wrists, in fact. She swore, then looked up at her companion. Cyne held up her own wrists to show Deryne the metal cuffs, then shrugged.

"They came in before," she said softly. "They weren't happy when they saw you weren't awake yet." Deryne nodded, then looked away. "The man told me that the chains bind the Gift, too."

"Hmm." Thinking about her magic- the soft breezes and that slipped through all barriers- Deryne could not imagine that power bound.

_Impossible,_ she thought with mild disbelief as she eyed the runes on the shackles. Her magic was too wild, too strong, too wayward, to be held by a spell-

_What am I thinking? _she scolded herself. _Every mage- Master Numair, Lady Alanna, Master Harailt- all of them can be contained. It doesn't matter how great the Gift-_

_What makes me any different? _Still, gingerly, she tried to summon her power. Spasms of pain shot through her, blocking her 'well' of magic- but not before she saw it rise in her mind.

"They left food and water. I made you drink some before." Deryne nodded; the hazy memory of water cooling her parched throat stuck with her.

"Is there any more?" she rasped. Cyne handed her a wooden mug in reply. Grinning crookedly, Deryne toasted her before downing the rest of the cup's contents, savoring the cool feeling in her mouth.

"Something amusing?" Cyne queried. Deryne smirked.

"No. But I'll panic if I don't keep my head up," she answered, feeling slightly better. "I'll bet behind that calm face, you're worrying your head off." Cyne shrugged again. "I wonder how long I've been out." She made a face. "That hankerchief in my face- one of the worse smells-"

"That's how they got you?" Cyne sat up against the wall.

"I was being stupid. The Ch- Duskwing even warned me, but I ran around the corner and into their waiting hands."

"Your bird?" Deryne nodded. Cyne's face softened. "He's beautiful. And clever." Deryne smiled wryly.

"Just don't say it in front of him. He preens enough as it is." Cyne joined her in a feeble laugh, but the pair fell silent after a few long moments.

"I bet the food and water are drugged," Cyne muttered.

"Probably." Deryne began to trace little, meaningless symbols in the dirt on the floor. For a long couple of minutes, they were quiet.

"You have nightmares a lot?" Deryne froze in the middle of drawing a small flower. Cyne's dark hair hid her face when the other girl glanced over. "I do," she said lowly. "Usually drowning." She shivered and folded her arms over her chest.

"That's odd," Deryne said, frowning. "I wouldn't have thought-" Cyne's lips twitched.

"Because you saw me- sensed me- when I connected to the ocean." Cyne twisted a lock of hair in her fingertips. "I don't know why; drowning just terrifies me." She laughed softly. "Perhaps a past life. Perhaps a future one." Deryne pursed her lips. She did not need to be a mind-reader to hear the _Perhaps this one _in the way she stared at the floor.

"I hear voices," she said. No reason for Cyne to be dwelling on grim thoughts when they were locked up in a dark room. "-in my dreams. Different voices, saying thousands of different things…." She took a deep breath. "I can't block them out. I want them to leave me alone and they won't."

"You started yelling," Cyne told her quietly, pulling her knees into her chest.

"Hmm… like I scold Ev and Al when they start nagging." As Deryne had intended, Cyne smiled. Emboldened, the female page added with a show of gusto, "I wish that someone would get his butt over here and tell us what's going on-"

"Wish granted, Deryne of Queenscove," a low voice said, and Deryne's eyes widened in alarm as the door slammed open.

* * *

_AN: Uh-oh! (grin)_

_Who is it? Guesses? _

_I wonder what anybody who's read the Jaguar Goddess thinks of Cyne, seen from Deryne's pov... It was odd for me, writing and seeing her from the outside... She's very reserved, and since you don't have the advantage of knowing what she's thinking... (grimaces) I just hope she isn't going flat on me._

_Reviews, please? _

* * *


	16. Chapter 15: Just Another Day

_AN: I'd like to tell you all now… I have figured out that this is going to be a lot longer than I had originally planned…. Just as a heads-up, in case you're wondering where the major conflict is because at this point in the Jaguar Goddess there was a LOT going on…._

_But longer is better. (crosses fingers) Really. Most of the time. Honestly, this goes from Deryne's page years all the way to knighthood, so it makes sense that it's a bit longer…. And there's a lot going on. It's not just her story; it's coming-of-age for Rikash, Cadel, etc, etc._

_ANYWAY, thanks to all reviewers- **SarahE7191**, **skyflyte12**, **CT Eleczko**, **Eternityfalls**, **Heiress of Lohaust**,** cahawk** and **KyrieofAccender** (O Great And Mighty Beta _;p)

* * *

Chapter Fifteen

Just Another Day

July 10th, 477 H.E.

The first thing she noticed was that he wore a black robe, one uncannily like the one in Numair's closet. Rikash had gotten in trouble for borrowing it to pretend to be an evil mage, chasing her and Cadel through the castle.

The man was handsome, tan-skinned with dark blond hair cropped short. As he grew closer to them, Deryne was uncomfortably aware of the fact that he was _huge_, broad-shouldered and tall. He flashed her a perfect, shining white smile.

"Hello, my ladies," he addressed them, bowing. "I apologize for the abysmal room, but secrecy is of the upmost importance, you must understand." Despite the potential danger looming before her, Dryne snorted; wasn't he the gentleman?

"Of course. After all, you wouldn't want to be dragged up to the palace dungeons for kidnapping," she drawled, trying to rein in her fear. The man's blue eyes glittered.

"Queenscove. Aren't you the little charmer?" Deryne tried to hide her surprise; it wasn't shocking that he knew who she was. The alarm was probably all over the city. She glared, crossing her arms over her chest.

"They tell me I got it from my father's side," she retorted, her eyes widening marginally as a bark of laughter escaped the man.

"The training master didn't ever cut that tongue of Nealan's out, eh?" The man closed the door behind him. "Good to see he's lost none of his wit." Deryne saw no sign of any guards with him, but this did not concern her as much as the hint that this man knew her father.

"Who are you?" she demanded sharply, forgetting to be scared. After all, the man seemed at ease, and not likely to threaten them- He raised an eyebrow, his face grave.

"If I told you, it would mean your deaths. I assume you would rather leave unscathed and without my name than dead with it." Deryne watched him for a long moment, her eyes wide.

"Oh." She cleared her throat. "Well, if you put it that way-"

"You're going to let us go?" Cyne demanded sharply. "What-" The handsome man's lips twitched.

"The pleasure is all mine, my lady Hetnim," he drawled, bowing. Deryne exchanged a glance with the other girl. "But you weren't the object of this escapade." A small smile lingered on his lips. "The ransom will be a good reward, but this was merely…." He stopped, as though trying to form the words he needed. Deryne scarcely dared to breathe as his brilliant eyes landed on her. "A test, of sorts. I enjoy challenges, even more when I succeed." The page scowled, her brow furrowing.

"So you did this for entertainment? You were _bored?_" She doubted it; _no, _she_ knew _that was not true. She was even more certain when something flickered in his eyes: amusement? A very deadly, dangerous amusement, if it was….

"Somewhat," he said softly, leaning up against the door. "My apologies, my lady Cyne; I happen to like the Isles. I have nothing against them."

"That's good news." Cyne seemed to draw strength from some inner well; she stared at him disapprovingly, her lip between her teeth as though she were trying to puzzle him out. Deryne hoped the Kyprian was having better luck than _she _was. Then his eyes flickered back to Deryne, and she stood the same way she would if Numair beckoned to her. "Would you mind telling me how you got involved in this?" Deryne frowned. "The reason you were up and about?" The girl tensed.

"My… bird," she said carefully, feeling odd. There was something about the way he scrutinized her- "He escaped… I had to find him." The man's eyes were hard.

"And you managed to locate this animal? In the palace? How could you even know that he was _in _the palace?" Deryne swallowed heavily.

"I was going to find D- the Wildmage. She would have been able to call him."

"I see." There was something going on; something Deryne could not put her finger on, as much as she tried to figure out what her interrogator was thinking. "And you… happened to stumble upon Cyne and her captors at this time?" Deryne's palms were sweaty; she fought the urge to wipe them off on her breeches.

"I heard a scream," she said sharply.

"I was not caught until later," Cyne added, shooting a worried glance at the pair. Though she did not understand what was going on, she wanted to help Deryne, to distract the mage before them, even if it was for only a little while.

"Did you indeed?" the man murmured, his gaze unwavering. He did not so much as glance at Cyne. Deryne could feel herself trembling as she stared back at him. "A scream… out loud?" Deryne's breath caught as he advanced, his good looks now menacing, his body robed in a black shadow. "Or did you hear it on the winds?" Panic shot through the page as she raised an eyebrow at him cockily.

"Out loud or on the wind? As in, did I hear it in the air?" she questioned scornfully. "I would imagine they mean the same thing." Her hands shook as he stopped, a foot away from her.

"But I imagine they don't," he answered mildly. "And you don't, either." She forced herself to look into his eyes; to show him he was wrong- He smiled slightly. "I do not mean you harm, Queenscove. It is a fantastic Gift. A great and powerful one. An old one." She narrowed her eyes.

"Old?" she asked distastefully. "Magic is magic, whatever it is." But, even as she said it, the words Myles had spoken several months ago sprang to the front of her mind unbidden.

_Long ago, the Gift was different. It had a tendency to… get out of hand._

The man smiled dryly.

"We will be leaving you here," he stated plainly. "Our payment comes today. And- hopefully- they will be clever enough to figure out where you are." Cyne's eyes narrowed.

"Which is…?" The man smiled smugly, running a hand through his hair. In the dim light, Deryne made out a large ring on his middle finger. A black opal with an insignia, surrounded by four gemstones- She leaned in for a moment and curiosity overtook her sense.

Soft breezes danced through the air, brushing over the man's hand. Deryne closed her eyes, gathering the image like she would catch dandelion seeds on the wind as her magic rose around her.

A black opal with an odd symbol in its center, set in a metal ring wrought in a peculiar pattern… Four stones surrounded the opal.

Then she froze.

She was in chains. Gifted chains. Why-?

Perhaps if the breezes came to _her_, it did not count as her working her Gift.

_Except then that would be wild magic, an affinity with the wind, not the Gift!_

_No._ Numair Salmalin would have known if she had had wild magic. He was the expert. He would have known-

"Far enough away to hide, and obvious enough to overlook," he told them. "Crowded enough to be discarded as a hiding place, but deserted enough that no one will find you accidentally." Deryne stiffened.

"And…," she said slowly. "You aren't telling them where we are." His smile frightened her even more than his penetrating gaze. "We'll die!" she yelled, as though the louder she said, the more likely he would understand.

"Ah…," he said vaguely, turning his back to them. "I doubt it." Before Deryne could protest, he slipped through the door and slammed it shut. "It's open," he called, and then she heard him walk away.

She gaped at the prison door for a very long time. With a glare at the dark, outside hall, Cyne gathered the chains in one hand and yanked hard. They did not budge from their place in the wall. She tried once more, then exhaled slowly.

"It could be open," Cyne said weakly. "But we can't reach it with these chains on." Deryne glowered down at the innocently gleaming metal.

"I know," she said darkly. Then she slammed her foot into the wall and swore.

* * *

_Dolls in the shadows… books open, huge hands flipping through the pages… Swords clashing… a tomb… a red-haired sorcerer shouting…a symbol burnt on the floor-_

_Flashing purple eyes, black cat-_

_Screams, laughter- _

_And burning. Fire. Flames. Laughter until the body turned to ash….__ But the soul was alive; the soul remembered..._

"Fools…"_A small boy with black hair and sapphire eyes- There was a shadow, a darkness, seeping through the air-_

"Squire!" Inar woke, his face and hair drenched in sweat. His knight master had his sword out and was glaring into the night. The fire had been put out-

Swiftly, the young man scrambled out of his bedroll and grabbed his own blade, memories of the dream fading as he realized the man must have heard something in the woods surrounding their small camp for the night.

"What is it?" he breathed, his heart pounding. Sir Clement frowned, edging forward.

"Maybe noth-" The man yelled as a shadow came careening at them, knocking him over. Inar's eyes widened, but his hands were steady and he sprinted forward. With one hard strike, he beheaded the enormous beast and kicked its twitching body off of the knight. He extended a hand towards the man, who grabbed it with a fleeting smile.

"An spidren," the man muttered. "The villagers told us there weren't any more in the area-" Inar snorted.

"Well, they were wrong, weren't they-" Something slammed into him from behind, pinning him down on the forest floor. He yelped, tried to turn to face his opponent.

"Inar!" Clement bellowed, but then the squire heard the telltale sound of something moving through the brush, even as he felt the hot breath of the immortal on his neck.

"There's another one!" he yelled back, slowly losing air. The beast sat on him, forcing air out of his lungs- He desperately tried to inhale, but found he could not-

He was dying- He felt something sharp cut into his back-

Blue magic flared as he screamed; the spidren screeched. Suddenly, everything shifted in his mind. Everything seemed clearer; he was stronger, surer-

Wrenching his arm out from underneath him, he slammed it into the monster's chest, then grabbed a dagger at his side as it recoiled slightly, giving him more room to maneuver. Taking huge, grateful breaths of air, he turned to face his foe and stabbed it. It screamed again; he twisted the dagger's hilt into the immortal's body more firmly. Blood fell on him as he swat the arms of the dying spidren's away from his throat. Contemptuously, he pushed it away from him and rose, watching coldly as it writhed in pain and cried out. A moment later, it stopped moving and died.

"Good work, boy." Inar looked up, frowning as Brockmire came up and clapped him on the shoulder. The squire shook his head slowly. He knew the man….

"I- my head hurts," he said lowly, putting a hand up to massage his temples. His knight master, perhaps? Yes, of course… Sir Clement of Brockmire. He, Inar, was his squire. Memories flashed through his mind; a burning village, Corus, his friends… Deryne stuck in his mind for a long moment. "I thought you saw your life flash through your eyes when you were dying," he said faintly. "Maybe my mind's a little slow on the uptake…" He heard the knight chuckle.

"You did splendidly, lad. I thought you were dead for sure. I've never seen a squire move so fast. Rarely any knight that fast, either-" He stopped, thinking. "I saw the Lioness fight, when she was younger… maybe she was faster-" He shrugged. "My point- I don't know if I could have saved myself there." Shakily, Inar stared at the immortal's body, then the one that Sir Clement had dispatched. "We should burn those three, and then move camp, eh? Sleep in a little?"

Inar knew that the man understood his qualms. He had not slept well, and he certainly would not be able to sleep here, not now…. He looked at the black blood on the grass and shuddered. He was covered in it. Brockmire noticed his discomfort.

"And maybe a stream to wash that stuff off of you?" Numbly, Inar nodded. In two quick strides, the knight was at his bedroll, packing his belongings up. When the squire made to help, the man shook his head. "Absolutely not. I don't want that blood anywhere near anything." Grateful for the reprieve, Inar backed up and sat down underneath a tree. He did not know if he had enough calm of mind to load the saddlebags in any case. His hands shook; shudders wracked down his body. He looked up at the sky; he thought that the night sky was a little less dark. Dawn was coming. "And then we'll go back to that village to warn them that their raiding parties weren't so successful. Maybe organize another search. With your Gift, we might get that job done more easily than otherwise-"

Inar sighed softly, running his hands through his hair. Just another day of work.

* * *

"How could he 'doubt it' is what I'd like to know," Deryne muttered, glancing over at Cyne. Her wrists were red and chaffed from trying to slide her hands out of the cuffs. "Any rocks? Maybe I can smash it open. The palace healers could fix a broken hand-" The idea of dropping a rock on her hand made her wince, but she looked around for something she could use. Nothing. Nothing but them- She groaned, running a hand through her hair. "He poisoned the water, probably," she muttered. "We're going to fall asleep any moment and _die _and no one will ever find our bodies-" For some odd reason, she felt better, occupied with morbid thoughts-

"Deryne," Cyne murmured as she glared into the bowl of water. She rotated the bowl, letting the water swash around inside. "Please. Stop. You aren't helping." The other girl sighed, then leaned up against the wall.

Apparently, she had breezes at her command. Fat lot that did. She would not be able to call up a gust. She would probably keel over in agony.

Not that a huge wind would do anything. She had pointed this out to Cyne, who had said that it was better than nothing.

"Alright, then," Deryne snipped. "_You _figure out how to use air to break out of here-" Cyne raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe I would," she answered, her tone sharp but her face mild, as though she was struggling to control herself. "But I'm not Gifted like that. I have water-" She fell silent, then gestured feebly to the bowl. "Though, honestly, I can't figure out how to help us, either." Deryne forgot her annoyance as the other girl stared back into the water.

"What're you doing?" she asked, puzzled. The Kyprian sighed, then set it down.

"I don't know what I'm doing," she confessed. A small chuckle escaped Deryne.

"Neither do I," she laughed. Cyne smiled back, then groaned.

"Some pair we make," she said ruefully. "Two girls in chains, Gifted but not able to do anything with it."

"Hmm," Deryne agreed. "I know that we're underground- the air is heavier than it is otherwise."

"Can you sense all that?" Cyne asked, curiousity in her eyes.

"And more," the page replied, feeling proud. "I know that we're in a tunnel, which leads up through a building and outside, where there's open space and even grass-"

"There aren't a lot of places like that in Corus, from what I've seen of it," Cyne mused. "In the Isles, it's different. There's jungle all around the cities, and a lot of them have huge gardens or fields inside the walls."

"Sounds prettier than here," Deryne muttered. Cyne shrugged, then smiled.

"I'd be biased, I suppose," she murmured. "But Jiekai- now, _that _is a city."

"Carthak's capital?" Cyne's eyes gleamed.

"It's so busy, with all the traders coming in and out, and there's so many smells in the air-"

"Like the manure." Cyne shot a half-hearted glare at Deryne, who smiled innocently.

"Not in the Gold Market," she said. "Not really. You don't notice it, much, because there are dancers and pipe-players and sweet bread for almost nothing-"

"You miss it," Deryne said softly. "Meq told us about Jiekai, once or twice, but he didn't seem to like it all that much."

"I like the noise- all the voices and stories-" Instinctively, Deryne shuddered, and Cyne- who had easily noticed- frowned.

"I hear things on the wind," Deryne murmured. "I've told you, I think. Everything people say, everything they do, and- if they can't block their minds- everything they think." Cyne immediately stiffned, and the page smiled wanly.

"I've never heard you," she reassured Cyne. "Any secrets you have are safe from me." The girl laughed.

"I never would have guessed. That's why-" Then her eyes narrowed. "Breezes. Wind. Air. You can hear things from far away." Silence filled the room as she waited for Deryne's reply.

"Yes…," Deryne said slowly, wondering what was going on in the girl's mind. Her blue-green eyes gleamed.

"Can you _send _things _back_ on them?" Deryne made a face.

"What? How does that help? No, I've never tried-" Then she stopped. _Send something... _"Like... thoughts? To a friend?" Cyne locked gazes with her.

"Can you try?" she asked quietly. A slow grin made its way across Deryne's face.

"I can try," she replied. "I can try…."

* * *

Rikash cupped the water from the wash basin in his hands. Frowning with concentration, he stared at it as steam rose from it. Once his hands were empty, he waved a hand through it. The steam moved, turning into a image of a dragon with fiery scales. He smiled. It looked like Kitten, the baby dragon his ma had raised, when the immortal was mad. Kitten had gone on a voyage with Tkaa the basilisk to the Yamani Isles; the basilisk was one of Tortall's best ambassadors, and he was Kitten's best tutor in the ways of dragon kind.

They had been gone for over two years. Before that, when he, Cadel, and Deryne had been very little, the dragon had been one of their favorite and most feared companions. His smile faded. So did the steam.

Deryne. Missing. Kidnapped.

It seemed trouble wouldn't leave her alone. Rikash could not see how _anyone_, let alone Deryne, could have annoyed _any _god enough to deserve this. The message to Lady Alianne, Sir Nealan, and Lady Yuki was very cordial but clear: fifty gold nobles for two alive, healthy girls, or they would be returned in a less desired state.

"If I _ever _get my hands on him," he muttered, clenching his fists. Death would be too good for the one that did this. Deryne was another sister to him; Cyne seemed to be a nice girl, if a little dainty and snotty….

His father had told him- very pointedly- that Rikash was _not_ to go _anywhere_, because it would end up with his son getting mixed up in the whole mess.

"Too much like your parents," he had muttered to Daine's amusement. "Too likely to go off gallivanting to help a friend. This would go a far deal smoother if we could search without having to worry about you and Cadel going haring off somewhere." Rikash scowled, then threw himself down on his bed and closed his eyes. Stupid, stupid Deryne- how in Chaos had she managed to run into kidnappers dragging off the Copper Islander? That wasn't even bad luck; that was _skill_, to-

_Rikash!_

Swearing, the boy sat up, looking around.

It had been Deryne's voice, calling him. He looked around warily; the only movement in the room was the curtains that billowed in the late afternoon breeze. It was almost eventide- He sat up straighter, listening hard. He felt something open inside his mind, and- suddenly- he heard her again.

_Rikash! You hear me? _

"Umm… yes?" The apprentice mage scowled. "What in the name of Mithros-"

_Alright, alright- this is good. _

Good? Rikash's eyebrows rose. Good that he was hearing voices in his head? Like Deryne did?

_I heard that, _she said resentfully.

_No,_ Rikash was beginning to realize. She was _thinking _it. She was thinking inside of his head. He groaned.

"This is new," he said surlily, plopping back down on his soft blankets. He glared at the bedpost, wondering if he could knock himself out and into peaceful oblivion; this was too much.

_It was Cyne's idea- _

"Well, good for her," Rikash muttered, annoyed. He had thought that he had made his mind secure to Deryne-

_Well, you had me blocked. I've been trying all day- but then you started to relax, and then you heard me, and then you tensed up again and then you started listening and dropped your mind's defenses and now- _He glared.

"Stop doing that," he hissed. "The next time you answer something I'm thinking-"

_Well, start thinking out loud then, _Deryne retorted, disgruntled. _I can't tell the difference between the two. _

_Just peachy, _Rikash thought, disgusted. _It isn't enough that you can hear whatever I say, whenever I say it-_

_Well, that's not my fault, is it? _The boy shook his head, trying to rid himself of the frustration bubbling up within him. _  
_

"Where are you?" he demanded hotly.

_That's a funny story, actually- _Rikash's jaw dropped. As though having his head invaded wasn't enough!

"You don't know."

_Well, we have some hints from the man who was in charge of the whole thing. Kidnapping bit, I mean. _

"I assumed," Rikash retorted dryly, rubbing his face.

_Well, we're in Corus somewhere. _

"Like no one of us figured that out already."

_Shut up, Ri. _He smiled; at least he knew she was not too scared by her predicament. _Close enough and obvious enough to be overlooked, he said. _

"Who said?" Rikash frowned. "My father had thought it was one of those Stormwing looter bands hiding out in the city, but Ma said it wasn't…."

_The man. Defintely not a Stormwing. Big. Broad shouldered, tall- Probably middle twenties, earlier thirties, Cyne said. _Rikash rolled his eyes.

"And of course Cyne would know. Was she acquainted with him? One of the fops that has tea with her aunt?"

_Ri!_ Her thoughts were shrill. He sighed.

"Sorry. Just- Deryne, how could you be such an idiot?"

_I happen to trust Cyne's judgment, and whatever you think is pigeon feed. _That startled a chuckle from him.

"I meant how you got kidnapped in the first place."

_Oh._ There was a long moment of silence. Rikash frowned.

"Deryne?"

_Yep. I'm still here. Hopefully a little less stupid, now. _

"Look-" Deryne interrupted him, talking quickly. Or thinking. Whichever. Rikash had given up trying to figure that out.

_But we must be at least half the city away- it isn't very close and- I've used my Gift. Outside there's wide walkways, but I can't really get more than that of our surroundings, because there are a lot of people- but there aren't many wide, open streets- I'd say courtyards, too- _Rikash frowned as he committed the details to memory.

"In Corus?" He bit his lip. "I'll talk to Da, if I can find him…." He grimaced. "Your kidnappers got away with the ransom and without telling us where you are, and no matter what Ma or Da does, they can't find you."

_I believe it. _Rikash narrowed his eyes at Deryne's ruefulness.

"Oh?"

_I dunno. _He felt her shrug, and something in his stomach flipped. Being so closely linked to someone in his mind that he could feel her move… he shoved down the sudden bout of nervousness that surged through him. It was eerie- _He struck me as a very… confident… man. _Rikash scowled again, making a fist.

"It was a clever spell- very well done. Thought out, planned out, prepared- Somehow threw off the black-robe mage-" His father. "-and the fifteen palace mages waiting with him long enough to snatch the money and flee."

_Yeah… I think he was another black robe. _Rikash froze in the middle of picking away at loose strands in his blanket. Another _black robe_?

There were so few…. Black robe-ranked mages were the best, the strongest mages in the world. It was the highest honor- Numair Salmalin was one of about seven in the entire world.

How could Deryne say that as though it were nothing?

"That isn't good," he muttered. A black robe mage was one of the few things that really put the royal family in danger when Numair Salmalin was around. It meant that his father would spend the next few months hunting down this trickster until he was caught and punished. A few blasted months away from home and driving himself to the point of death from exhaustion- Rikash swore vehemently, smacking the mattress.

_At least your da will know who it is. He knows all of them…. _

"He would," Rikash mumbled. "He _is _one of the strongest- if not _the _strongest- of the lot."

It was an odd feeling, when he thought about it. His father, possibly the strongest mage in the world. The man who greeted his wife every morning as "magelet" and used to entertain his children with sleight-of-hand tricks. He angered his father often, but Rikash had never seen Numair Salmalin _furious_. There was a dangerous glimmer in his black eyes when he was irritated that made his son hope that he would never see his father really mad.

Rikash rose and glanced in the mirror morosely. _He_ would never inherit that deadly glare, the one that sent others scuttling. His eyes were soft, like honey-

_Well, your glare is scary enough with those sweet orbs, so you have nothing to worry about, _Deryne retorted, and Rikash started, feeling his cheeks turn red. He fumbled in his mind for the crack he had left when listening for her. He could _sense _her, her Gift-

"Wide walkways and courtyards in Corus," he recited. "Gotcha. Now go away." With that, he severed the link and sealed his mind once more. Then he whipped around and dashed out of his rooms.

Numair Salmalin would pop up eventually. He always did. Especially when Rikash disobeyed explicit instructions.

* * *

Deryne's stomach grumbled. Cyne cast an amused glance at her.

"Sorry," the page muttered, crossing her arms. "I had figured Ri would have gotten here by now."

"Surely _someone _knows where we are," Cyne answered, studying at her chains again.

"Maybe the mage spelled this place," Deryne said nervously, wringing her hands. "He was able to trick Numair and fifteen mages lying in wait to trap him; even an hedge witch can hide something from Master Numair; he only notices if he's looking for it-"

"If he hasn't thought of that, he shouldn't be a black robe." Cyne shifted and sighed, longing in her eyes. "I wish I had that sort of training. I mean, my tutor is a great mage, but an experienced teacher like Master Salmalin…."

"You can come with me next time," Deryne offered, smiling. "Keep you out of trouble." Cyne raised an eyebrow.

"Me? Don't you mean Brand and Merle?" Deryne snorted.

"They didn't get stolen out of a hallway, fifteen feet from their bodyguard."

"Bodyguard?" Deryne smirked and returned the raised skeptical eyebrow.

"You don't need to act like that with me," she retorted. "Lady Alianne strikes me as a very dangerous woman to cross." A laugh escaped Cyne. "Besides, she was Dove's bodyguard in your Rebellion." Cyne blinked; her bright eyes watched the other girl carefully.

"You know our recent history well." Deryne shrugged.

"Your brother was very interested. Sir Myles spent a lot of time answering his questions in class." Cyne's lips twitched. "Meq the scholar. Well, somebody's gotta take over for Sir Myles. He's too old to deal with those blockheads."

"I- gods!" As she glanced at the door, Cyne leapt to her feet and screamed. Alarmed, Deryne whipped around to see a Stormwing leering at them from behind the barred window in the door. She scowled at the immortal.

"Unless you feel like letting us out or telling Numair Salmalin our location, scat. I don't feel like bantering gossip." A harsh laugh escaped the alarming creature; he shook spiky black hair out of his eyes. His deathly pallor contrasted sharply with his steel feathers. A faint stench reached Deryne's nose. She fought the urge to make a face; that would only please him. She would have to ignore the stink. It would only get stronger.

"How'd a pretty pair like you get stuck down here?" he sneered. The page gave him a daggered glare.

"Means pig squat to you, don't it?" she retorted. He grinned widely. His teeth were razor-sharp.

"You have a rude tongue, little girl."

"You shouldn't be talking," the girl answered doggedly, gaining strength from the touch-and-go. Stormwings were known for their obnoxiousness.

"Probably. But that's part of our charm. Hypocrisy is our trade, and we freely admit it, unlikely you humans." The door creaked open.

_Is he actually going to help- frigging shit. _Deryne's eyes grew huge as the door opened to reveal a band of about ten of the beasts, carrying small trinkets. They looked at the two girls with hollow eyes and cold smiles.

Stormwing looters. They attacked at night, assaulting lone walkers or empty homes to carry off goods, the more costly the better. The black-haired immortal chuckled, winking at the two girls. Deryne grimaced.

One important fact stood out in her mind, one that refused to leave her alone, as much as she tried to push it away; Stormwing looters had little patient for other thieves, and defended their "burrows" with fiendish determination.

And they had no qualms about killing any intruders. Two girls in chains only added mystery to the fun. Deryne swore to herself; she hoped that whoever up there had a vendetta against her would drop it before she got killed.

_Um… Ri? Are you there? We need help. Now._

* * *

"Could she give you images, maybe?" Numair asked his son, who shrugged.

"I didn't think to ask." He eyed a tapestry while his father's eyes rolled. "But it's self-explanatory, what she said."

"Wide walkways, courtyards," the mage mused. "And you haven't heard from her again?" Rikash shrugged. Though he would not tell his father, he would _never _open up to anyone like that again. He trusted Deryne, but it was too easy for someone to possess him, poison his thoughts-

He thought of the dream with the hag who had thrown him into the pool of fire, and shuddered. If _she_ hadn't been just a nightmare, then he did not want to let a moment pass where she could attack his vulnerable mind.

"I tried," he lied. Numair sighed, running a hand through his dark curls.

"I know," he answered heavily, then smiled at his son. "You've worked so hard, mastering your Gift. I never had the sort of trouble you had," he admitted. "I was worried." Rikash smiled back, though guilt settled in his stomach. "I'm proud, Rikash," he said quietly. Then he looked down the hall. "The king should be here in a few moments. He had some…" His lips twitched. "-visitors to greet." Rikash's eyebrows rose.

"Oh?" Grinning conspiratorially, Numair inclined his head, but before he could say anything-

"Gods damn them, no one can leave my family alone for a moment!" a familiar voice bellowed. Rikash blinked. He had not heard _her_in a long time, but it was a voice no one could forget. "Does any blasted plotter ever have the decency to wait for a _real _embassy to cause trouble!" Rikash heard them coming around the corner and grinned at his father.

"Glad to see old friends?" Numair looked towards the end of the passageway and grimaced.

"Very. But I can't say I'm excited to meet her right now. The Lioness has a tendency to blame innocent bystanders in this kind of mood."

* * *

_Hehe. Alrighty- the next chappie, I promise there'll be some excitement. It'll be long; I've sworn that I won't stop until I get to- ahem. Well, I can't tell you... suffice to say it will take a long chapter. ;D_

_Reviews? Please? _

* * *


	17. Chapter 16: Searches and Statues

_AN: Alrighty. I have promised myself that- no matter how long it takes- I will get somewhere in this chappie. I know what/where this place is, but you'll just have to read to find out. ;p Thanks to **SarahE7191**,**skyflyte12**, **Eternityfalls**, **cahawk**, and **Heiress of Lohaust** for reviewing! Sorry about the delay, but I actually had a social life this weekend- shocker! parties!- and then I fixed this chappie and THEN it didn't save and my dad quit out of ffn... eee... So I had to recorrect it, and it's a LONG chapter..._

* * *

_Chapter Seventeen_

_Searches and Statues_

"Cadel!" The page whirled around to see Prince Leoraed standing behind him.

"Your Highness," he answered, bowing. Leo shook his black curls out of his face impatiently, viewing the older boy with his dark eyes.

"You forgot to tell me what happened the other day!" he exclaimed. "What did they say? Do they have any ideas? Where are they-"

_The boy will get along with Aloin_, Cadel thought ruefully as he smiled at the boy, who would become a page in September. "I got caught by Lady Alianne," he confessed. Leo's eyes grew huge.

"No!" he gasped, staring at the page. "Did she make you swear to tell nobody? Would I count as nobody?" he added hopefully. "After all, I am just eleven- I don't really matter-" Cadel fought bouts of laughter as the boy watched him. Only _this _heir to the throne could say such a thing.

"You certainly _do _count as somebody," he said, eyes twinkling at the boy's downcast expression. "But she didn't make me swear an oath." Quickly, he explained everything she had said and what had happened before, omitting the fact that Lady Alianne was the Lioness's daughter. The less people who knew that, the better. The family didn't want any attention. Even Leo, who knew how to keep a secret better than Cadel's ma knew the glaive-

"Lady Alianne practically _told _you to go figure this out!" the young prince said excitedly. Cadel raised an eyebrow as Leo sighed exasperatedly. "C'mon, Cadel! She said that somebody needed to figure out why they were taken, and you just stand around until you tell me-" Someone came thundering down the passageway. Both boys turned to see a wild-eyed Rikash running past.

"We think we know where Deryne is, Cadel!" he shouted over his shoulder. "Lady Alanna realized-!" Cadel blinked; by the time he had begun to move, his friend was gone.

"Well? Whatcha waiting for?" Leo demanded. Cadel smiled, despite his concern. He had been restless since Deryne had disappeared, but he did not want to be underfoot; he certainly did not want the heir to the throne underfoot. Knowing Leo, he would probably get mixed up in something that captured his curiosity and then everyone would blame Cadel for not watching out for him better, even though the prince would insist that he was entirely to blame for whatever had happened.

"He'll come and find us soon enough," he assured the boy before grabbing him by the arm. "C'mon. I'll show you the glaive again-" Leo's eyes lit up, and the two boys walked towards Cadel's rooms, the younger asking excited questions as fast as he could.

* * *

"Not good," Cyne muttered. Both girls stood back to back, eyeing the wickedly grinning immortals cautiously.

"Tell me something I didn't know," Deryne muttered back, her palms sweaty. "No weapons, no free hands-" And Stormwing feathers could slice a ox bone open.

"Gift," the other girl breathed back as the leader- the black-haired, pale one who had spoken to them- advanced. Deryne whipped her head around to glare.

"Gee, good idea. Why don't you start?" She noted that Cyne paled. "What? Afraid of a few immortals?"

"You should be," the leader said with a grin. Deryne sent back a smile just as jaunty. A female Stormwing narrowed her eyes, tossing her blond curls.

"Morig, I don't like this," she nattered. The leader- Morig- glared.

"It's two little girls!" he shouted. "Don't tell me you're going soft?" There were a few snickers from the others in their band, and the female flushed.

"You know, one of my best friends was named after a Stormwing," Deryne said, studying her nails. "Not a lot of folk know that, but I figure I can trust you lot to keep a secret for him." Cyne frowned.

"Who?" Deryne smiled.

"Tell you later." Cyne laughed incredulously.

"And if there isn't a later?" Deryne laughed; suddenly, she felt light-hearted and careless. She was not sure if hysteria was taking hold of her or if she was like a swimmer in numbingly icy water; the danger she was in was so great she could not sense it.

"All the more reason for us to get out of this."

"Awww, she's funny," sneered Morig. "I'll be sure to cut out your tongue last, mortal, so we can trade insults to the end." He gingerly plucked a large feather from his body and waved it in front of him. "How would you like that?"

"Very considerate of you," she answered, wondering at her nerve. "Most cowards would cut out the tongue first, but you seem to dish out the insults and take 'em, too." A harsh laugh tore from his throat.

"Yes, well, I've have enough pleasantries-" Deryne grabbed Cyne's hand. It was icy. The page looked at her friend concernedly.

"I- my Gift," Cyne whispered. "It goes crazy. I can't do anything with it-"

"Yes, you can," Deryne hissed. "Water- water going around in circles. Around us. Can you do it?" She could sense the girl's panic, even without her Gift pulsing through her. _Gudruna_- the knowledge her power summoned to her- roared through the air.

_Morig feints, and then the one to the left-_

Deryne snapped her head around to face a moving blur to her left, ignoring the leader's lunge. She did not have time to think; her magic slammed into the immortal, throwing him into the wall.

Dead silence filled the room except for her heavy breathing. She looked over at Morig, who smirked.

"Careful playing with that, dearie," he drawled. He held out a finger, as though he beckoned them. Deryne blanched when a ball of flame roared into being in his hands. "After all, who knows what will happen when you'll find someone who fights back with fire?"

* * *

"Is this the whole picture?" the lovely woman asked, brushing a piece of hair out of the blond's eyes as he glared down at the familiar chessboard. The two white bishops were trapped; if one was moved, the other would be taken by a pawn. A _pawn…._

"Yes," he rumbled, scowling. Then he sat back. "We- them- The bishops, at odds-" The woman smiled smugly, lying back.

"Each board opens unto another," she said, smiling at a kitchen boy passing by. One long, elegant fingernail tapped a pawn on black; the pawn rose and turned into a king. The board changed, growing smaller. The pawn-turned king took position at the head of the black pieces. She pursed her lips, studying the new king's pawns, then touched one. The same process unfolded once again before their eyes. "Why stare at the whole picture when we do little to affect it? But the smaller boards… pieces come and go easily… just like immortals and humans do. This one… is the one that you should be watching now." The black queen and eight pawns surrounded the white queen and one of her bishops, while the black king stood nearby. The man's brow furrowed as she put delicate fingers on the other, free white bishop and moved it slowly until it was behind the black king, on the attack. The way the black pieces were positioned, the king could not move anywhere but a space closer to the antagonizer. Then the woman sat back, eyes gleaming.

"Checkmate," she laughed huskily as she turned to the man beside her. "I've saved you to fight another day. Now, go back to your musings. I promise to leave you alone this time."

* * *

"I realize that you must have writs and speak with the priests," Rikash heard his father tell the king in an exasperated voice. "But surely _I _could go ahead-"

"Or me," the Lioness said tartly. "Give me a squad- or no one- and I'll-"

"Not without my approval," Roald answered. "And then _I_ will look bad, whether it is because people believe I ordered you to search the temples, or if it is because they think I cannot control the palace mages." When the baffled Numair had revealed their one clue to the Lioness and the king attempting to calm her down, the woman had instantly realized Deryne must have described the courtyards in the Temple District of Corus. Nowhere else were there such places in the crowded capital. Roald had then escorted the pair of them into his study, leaving Rikash to listen at the door.

"What kind of nonsense is that?" Alanna snapped. "I don't give a rat's bottom what 'the people' say, not when _children _are in trouble, and you refuse to do anything about it!" Rikash winced, then backed away from the door. He knew his father had not sealed the room against eavesdroppers because he knew that his son would be listening, but there was no reason to be obvious about it. Roald's answer was a gentle rumble.

"But this is the Islander queen's niece!" Alanna retorted heatedly. "And a page! Have you informed Lord haMinch?"

"I have," the king answered ruefully. "And I refuse to tell you what he said. I don't want any more fuss between _either_ of you and him. Numair, you both work with the next generation of nobles; why cause trouble?"

"I'm not the one belittling Deryne because of her gender." Roald did not reply to that. Probably because he knew the mage was right.

"She should be commended for her effort!" the lady knight added. "As a page of the realm, she cannot be left on her own! She was trying to save the Kyprian delegate!"

"I cannot allow you to go." Numair's sigh was loud enough to be heard through the door. Alanna swore.

"And I suppose that means _no one _is allowed?" Alanna snarled. Rikash scowled; was his father giving up so easily? This was _Deryne _and her life at stake!

"Certainly not. And if I hear that you encouraged someone to go, there _will _be consequences-"

"But if _someone _goes without my knowledge, you would hardly punish them, would you?" Numair asked quietly. Rikash's amber eyes widened as the words' meaning struck him. He stared at the door, agape.

"I suppose I couldn't," Roald said slowly, as though he were smiling. "Since I only told _you _that no one was to make a move-"

Rikash did not wait another moment; spinning on his heel, he dashed off down the corridor to find Cadel. As he rounded the corner, someone nearly barreled into him. He leapt out of the way just as the redhead looked up at him, glaring.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?" demanded Merle Crow.

* * *

"Oof!" Tripping over his own two feet, Leo dropped his glaive and tumbled to the ground. Cadel swung his dull blade to the side and placed it gingerly on his desk before offering the boy a hand.

"Not bad," he said, striving not to smile at the dejected look on the prince's face. "Really. Ev says I'm a downright snob with the girl sword."

"The glaive isn't a girl sword!" Leo straightened indignantly. "It looks pretty- but it's hard to handle!" Cadel smiled.

"Thanks. But Ma's taught me and my sister since we were little-" Someone pounded on the door; Cadel frowned. "Hold on-"

He barely managed to open the door before it slammed open in his face; a red-haired blur shot into the room, closely followed by Rikash, Mequen, and Brand Sibigat, Cyne's friend.

Merle Crow plopped down on Cadel's bed, then glared at him.

"What's this about finding Cyne and Deryne?" Lost for words, the page looked at Rikash pointedly.

"I have no idea," he said slowly. "Ri? Do you have any idea?" Cadel was willing to bet his glaive that the other boy had more than an inkling of what was going on.

"You know perfectly well I do," the apprentice snorted. "I just didn't want anyone overhearing-" He cleared his throat, then shut the door. "They're in the Temple District, Cadel, and Roald won't let Da or Lady Alanna-" Merle froze.

"G- the lioness is here?" she demanded. "She wasn't supposed to come until-" Seeing the looks the boys gave her, she fell quiet.

"The king won't let anyone raid the area until he's spoken with the priests," Rikash continued after a moment. He scowled. "But then my father said something that sounded like he was hinting that I should-"

"Go find them?" Cadel finished, his brow knitted. His stomach quivered with excitement, but the rational part of his mind beat the sensation down. "Do you have any idea of how stupid-" Rikash's eyes glittered dangerously, but it was Merle who spoke. Leaping up, she shot a glare at Cadel that would have pierced rock.

"I think it's a _brilliant _idea," she snapped. "Rikash is a mage- you and Meq are pages. Me and Brand know enough-"

"And I'm small and quick," Leo added, reminding Cadel that he was there. Merle and Brand did not seem to recognize him, but all three Tortallan boys narrowed their eyes at the prince.

"Absolutely _not_," they said in unison. Leo scowled.

"I don't see why not. If it's safe enough for you lot-" Cadel grimaced; was he really that thick, or just plain stubborn?

"But- Leo, you see, you're the _heir _to the _throne_. Don't you see the problem-" The boy's chin stuck out.

"No, I don't," he retorted, arms akimbo. "And I'll just tell _my_ da if I don't go." Cadel groaned inwardly.

"You don't even know Deryne," he said, wondering why he bothered. Logic seemed irrelevant to the boy. Sure enough, Leo's eyes narrowed.

"Yes, I do. I'm coming."

"No, you aren't! None of us are, because-"

"Cadel." The page glanced over at the quiet Meq, who stood with his arms crossed, his dark eyes blazing. "My sister, your cousin." Cadel bit his lip tightly.

"We are kids, Meq-"

"Speak for yourself, Cadel," Rikash answered frostily. Meq's eyes never left Cadel's.

"The king can't get a writ. How long will they be out there?" They both knew he was right... "It's been a few days. If they haven't eaten or drank anything-" He left the sentence hanging; the ominous silence seemed to press down on them all.Cadel inhaled, then exhaled slowly.

"Let's go now, Ri. The sooner, the better. Before reason returns to me." He ran a hand through his brown hair, then glared at Leo, who was about to follow Rikash out the door.

"Don't argue," the younger boy said loudly. Without another word, Cadel leapt up and crossed the room to stand in front of the door, arms crossed.

"You are certainly _not _going," he said in a low voice, hazel eyes firm as he stared down the prince. "If I have to tie you to the bedpost, so be it."

* * *

Sweat formed on Deryne's face as Morig held the flame but an inch from her face. It rotated slowly, blinding her to everything beyond it.

"Pretty, isn't it?" he whispered. Then he shoved Deryne to the floor with his other hand. She yelped, stumbling before she thudded into the hard stone. His eyes gleamed fanatically, sending chills up her spine.

Then he tossed a ball of flame towards her. Flinching, she felt it fly past her face and hit the wall behind her.

"Not fond of fire then, eh?" he sneered. "You aren't a very powerful mage-girl, then, are you? And the other one-" He shook his head contemptuously towards Cyne, whose eyes were wide, her face pale. "-afraid. We sense it, you know." He chuckled. "Not that one would need to sense it. You look like you've met your worst nightmare."

"Don't compliment yourself so much," Deryne answered tartly, though worry coursed through her at the sight of Cyne. She _did _look scared. Morig advanced with careful steps; all other immortal faces were blurs.

"I'll let my friends play for awhile first. Then, maybe, mage-girl, you'll learn your friend is right to fear."

* * *

Cadel watched the Goddess' warrior priestesses warily as they marched past wielding their sickles, scrutinizing him as though they could sense his guilt.

Well,_ he _had no reason to be feeling guilty. It was Rikash and the others who were sneaking around the temple's lower levels; he was just standing there…. Once the women passed by, he whistled softly. He waited another tense moment, then Leo popped his head out of the door that led to the storage rooms and shook his head. The prince had won out the dispute with Cadel after Merle had taken a decisive stand with the younger boy, telling the page that they could not afford to waste time tying Leo up.

"Nothing but dust," he said before he was pushed out into the empty, public worship place by Brand.

"We should spilt up," he muttered. "There're plenty of temples, and only five of us-"

"We should look at the deserted ones," Merle declared, hands on her hips. "No man has the guts to drag two girls through the Goddess's temple." Cadel nodded as Rikash and Meq appeared.

"Ri, you said Deryne sensed a _lot _of empty space-" He shrugged. "Maybe I'm wrong, but there's that huge field separating some of the more used temples and the older ones-" Rikash glowered, running his hand through his hair.

"I'll torch the place if I have to wait for much longer-" Merle's eyes flickered from him to Cadel, then cleared her throat.

"Rikash, Meq, Brand, go look around. Since you're so worried about him, Cadel, you and I can look after the princeling."

"Hey!" Leo exclaimed, but Merle was already half-way to the exit.

"Coming?" She was surprisingly quick, and the boys had to jog to keep up with her. It was late, and there were few people in the Temple District. It made their progress that much faster, and the group soon reached the other side of the field. "Brand, Rikash- that one." She pointed imperiously towards the one furthest to the right. "Cadel, Leo- all the way on the other side. Work your way to the middle. Meq, look around the grounds. I'll start in the middle and-"

"What?" Brand demanded sharply. "You're going with Cadel-"

"Just try to stop me, Brand Sibigat," Merle retorted, her eyes glinting. Then she spun around and began climbing the stairs to a Wavewalker temple. "Why is this deserted? The Wavewalker isn't an insignificant goddess, even away from the sea-"

"Not deserted," Rikash corrected loudly. "Just less visited." Merle's reply was a toss of her bright hair as she yanked open the door and peered inside. Brand muttered something about redheaded girls and followed her. While Meq made his way around the outside of the temple, disappearing around the back of it, Cadel cast an amused glance with Rikash, who spun around and headed in the direction Merle had directed. Cadel frowned.

"Where are you going?"

"To search for my friend," Rikash replied shortly. "I suggest you do the same." Cadel stared after his sharp-tongued friend for a moment, struggling to suppress the impulse to run after him and hit him-

"He's just worried," Leo said in an uncharacteristically confident voice. "Don't let his words bother you." Cadel smiled absently.

"I don't," he replied before striding off in the opposite direction. Merle would probably box his ears if he did not do as she had ordered.

* * *

Rikash stormed up the stairs to the simple temple. It looked dead, its marble and wood structure unkempt and its doors locked. Searching for an inscription somewhere nearby to tell him who was worshiped there, he gripped the lock and glared at it. Flames roared up around it, melting it to tiny chips of metal that floated to the ground in the soft wind. Wiping his hand on his breeches, the apprentice mage shoved the door open and nearly tripped into the temple.

It seemed it was more elegant than he would have assumed from looking at it from the outside. The ceiling was open to the elements, and hundreds of small windows rimmed the walls above him. A chill rushed through the boy as the gentle breezes from the evening air stirred, somehow growing to a gust in the darkening room.

The only statue- standing in the middle of the temple- was an enormous hunting bird with its wings outstretched, its beak open in mid-cry.

What really caught Rikash's attention was the door to the right of the statue; when he approached it, he saw that there was no dust on it-

_The wind would stir up any dust in here, _he thought, but he still eased the door open slowly. Perhaps it was the wind that finally cemented his suspicions; breezes reminded him of Deryne, more than anything else-

It would stand to reason that she was there.

As he slipped into the dark hall, he heard something that confirmed everything, all at once: a scream.

* * *

"Get away from me!" Deryne shrieked as another Stormwing began burning the floor near her feet. She scrambled away, only to leap the other way to avoid another attack. To the immortals' delight, Cyne, who was in the middle of evading another flame, crashed into her friend. Deryne swore breathlessly as she fell.

"Dance!" chanted the blond female, blue eyes gleaming. Others joined her, stamping their feet. "Dance, dance-" Deryne tried to summon her magic, but only a breeze flew over the Stormwings. "Going to blow us over, dearie?" Apparently, the female had gotten over her apprehension. Morig shook his head and yawned; Deryne's stomach dropped. The leader of the pack was bored.

"Enough!" he snapped, and all fell silent. "I think-" He pointed at Cyne, and the fire billowed over towards her. The girl screamed, throwing her hands up-

Deryne gaped at the glittering blue magic that roared over the other girl, slamming into the fire, which disappeared in a cloud of hissing vapor. Morig grinned at Cyne, sharp teeth glinting in the dim light.

"Ah-ha. A strong mage, eh? Let's see how you play this game. Maybe you're better than your friend here-" Trembling, Cyne faced the Stormwing.

"Please," she said softly. "Let us go." She hesitated before adding, "Unleashing my magic is the last thing either of us wants." Morig smirked, leaning against the blond female.

"Really? You're that scary?" He flexed his fingers, and two balls of flame roared up in his fists. "That calls for double the ammunition." Horrified, Deryne watched as the fire roared towards her and Cyne, but she could do nothing to stop it. She had manipulated fire- normal fire and Rikash's Gift- but this was different. This was cruel, indifferent flames, fire that _wanted_ to destroy her, its owner a monster who delighted in murder- Her eyes closed as the heat overwhelmed her, a warning of what was to come- Her Gift struggled feebly, unable to combat the onslaught.

"No!" someone bellowed and her crystalline eyes flickered open for a moment to see someone behind the flames, behind the Stormwings-

Then the fire roared over her, and her eyes widened in amazement.

It did not hurt. It barely skimmed her skin, like a water bug cresting the top of the water. Then it flew from her, as though someone had torn it away, as though it could not bear to touch her-

Stormwings screamed as the fire blazed; Deryne had to shut her eyes, but the light was still there, burning a brilliant red across her sight. She sat down heavily, eyes still closed, as scuffling sounds broke out-

And then-

"Deryne?" Someone was there, next to her, shaking her- She opened her eyes and smiling wanly.

"Hi, Ri." With a relieved sigh, the boy shook his head and sat back. Cyne walked over unsteadily as Rikash enveloped her wrists in his hands. Fire licked the cuffs holding Deryne before they turned to dust.

"Wow," she said in a low voice. "That was impressive." Rikash smiled faintly before doing the same to Cyne's manacles.

"Thanks," she said quietly before massaging her wrists. "How long-"

"A few days." Rikash stood, then helped Deryne to her feet. She scowled at him.

"I can stand, you know."

"One never knows," Rikash muttered as Cyne rose. "Not with you, Queenscove." The girl page grimaced.

"Am I in trouble?" The boy raised an eyebrow.

"With your parents? No. With the king? No. With _my _parents? No. With me? Yes, for the rest of this life."

"See, if you were anyone else, I'd think you were kidding," Deryne grumbled as she eyed their surroundings. Black dust coated everything. "Where'd the Stormwings go?"

"Torched," Rrikash replied with a grim ring of satisfaction to his voice. It chilled Deryne for a moment, but she shook off the uneasy feeling as Rikash smiled. "I thought you said it wasn't Stormwings?"

"It wasn't," Cyne said as they left the dark room. Rikash held out a palm; orange fire lit their way through the passageway. "They stumbled in after the man left us." She continued to explain as they entered the main chamber again, and Deryne paused.

The bird statue was a kestrel, one identical to the small figurine Cadel had given her. He had said it meant luck, hadn't he? Curious, she studied the black symbol painted on the floor as Cyne spoke.

It was a rune, one she had never seen before-

"What is that?" she asked, gesturing. Rikash stopped for a moment, then shrugged.

"Dunno. Looks like four runes to me, combined into one," he said quietly, pointing to the top right corner. "That one is fire, I think. Then there is this leaf-shaped one on the bottom, and those other two-" He squatted and traced the upper left rune, a small circle. It ended at the bottom of the fire rune and formed three curved lines that sprouted downwards. "And they all meet in the center…." He shrugged. "It looks old, but so do all runes. Sir Myles might know, but I don't see the point." Deryne looked up at the sky; it was almost dark.

"Neither do I," she whispered.

"Let's leave," Cyne said, shivering. "Something about this place…." Deryne frowned; there was a murmur of _gudruna_ on the wind. Words like a faint melody, familiar but impossible to remember. It made her head ache.

She despised _gudruna_.

"I'd like a bath," she declared, heading for the door. "Hurry up, you two."

* * *

"How foolish can you get!" Merle, Brand, and Cadel studied their feet as Aly towered over them, eyes flashing dangerously. "Incredible! I thought that my _daughter _might have a half a head on her shoulders!" Disgusted, she turned around to face the king, Numair, and Lady Alanna, who was fighting a smile.

"Yes, she _is _quite like you," the older woman drawled. Aly stiffened, then glared back at the group of miscreants. Rikash stared back boldly; Leo cleared his throat quietly.

"How can you explain yourselves?" the Copper Islander demanded.

"It's my fault," the prince insisted loudly, stepping forwards. Eyebrow raised, Numair exchanged a glance with Roald. "I _told_ Cadel that Lady Alianne had hinted he should do something. Then I told him I was going to look, and if he didn't, then I might get in trouble without him to get me out of it. Otherwise he never would have gone. He's too well-behaved." Roald seemed to be struggling with amusement at his serious offspring, while Alanna grinned outright. Cadel blushed.

"And I assume you came up with this devious plot all on your own," Numair said, eyes twinkling. The prince looked down.

"No," he said dejectedly. "But it's my fault." The king coughed.

"Indeed, laddie?" Alanna queried, grinning wickedly. "Here I thought they dragged you kicking and screaming. Seems this heir to the throne is a bad boy, just like his grandfather." Leo looked up at the women with big, curious eyes as his father cleared his throat.

"But you found them," Roald cut in, his deep voice kind. "And saved them, quicker than we would have been able to. So I will thank you this time, for ensuring peace with our Kyprian friends." He nodded to Lady Alianne, and Alanna snickered.

"I'd have made her stay in line, Majesty." Cyne and Brand watched the exchange with interest; Deryne noticed the confusion on their faces.

So Merle had not let her friends in on the secret. They did not seem to know that their friend's grandmother was a living legend.

"Can we go?" she heard Leo ask hopefully. "Cadel never showed me that trick with the glaive he was talking about." Shaking his head, Roald chuckled, torn between amusement and disbelief, then waved them away.

"Go on." Deryne stopped at the door, waiting until Cadel, Leo, Brand, and Merle had left. Cyne and Rikash also lingered by the half-open door. Assuming the children were gone, Alanna drew closer to the king, taking up all of his attention in a way no other person that short could. Numair had back turned to the trio; he was watching his old friend. Lady Alianne also watched, though her eyes seemed detached and glazed over, as though she was thinking.

"They should not be here. This is the perfect time, the excuse-"

"Rikash!" Cadel hissed from down the hall. The apprentice mage urged him to be silent, but the adults had noticed them.

"Go on," Roald repeated, smiling at them. "You've done enough for one day; I'm sure you two ladies are especially tired." The message was clear: leave now. Not knowing how else to respond, Deryne bowed and exited to scold her cousin.

* * *

_You-_Deryne ducked, arms out, as the kestrel swooped overhead. _-are- _Duskwing flapped over to his perch to glare at her. _-possibly the _stupidest _human I have seen in my life. And that is no small thing, I assure you. _

"You warned me," the page grumbled, pulling off her boots. She had bathed and dressed in new clothes before being presented to the king, but the cloth was itchy and the shirt a size too large. "I know." She plopped down on the bed. "Who was he, Chamber?" Numair had not allowed her to ask him anything; all he had said was that he would need to check on something.

Why? He obviously knew who the man was- Black robe mages did not pop out of nowhere-

_How should I know? _it asked disdainfully. _I wasn't there. I wasn't the one foolish enough to run into my kidnappers' hands. _Deryne sat up, scowling.

"They were looking for Cyne-"

_The pleasure is all mine, my lady Hetnim…. But you weren't the object of this escapade…. A test, of sorts. I enjoy challenges, even more when I succeed. _The words came back to her only to puzzle her more.

"They were looking for a challenge," she echoed. "But that wasn't all-"

_They were testing some_one_. It was a challenge- A test that succeeded. He will remember that. It might take years, but sooner or later, that information will be useful to him. _Deryne frowned.

"It sounds like _you _know more than I told you," she accused. "Besides, if he was testing _me_- which is what you seem to be hinting- why go into Cyne's rooms?" Duskwing flapped his wings, his eyes gleaming.

_It was more about the _abandonment _than the kidnapping, _he said finally. _He will learn more from that than sulking about in the shadows. _Someone banged on the door. Warily, Deryne cast a glance back at the kestrel, then walked to her door and opened it partway.

It was Cyne, standing outside in the hall grinning. Deryne stared at her.

"Aren't you worried you'll be snatched up sometime in the dark of night?" she demanded. Cyne tossed her dark hair and rolled her eyes.

"How would you like to see the Lioness?" she asked. Deryne raised an eyebrow.

"I did. I have in the past- she's one of my champions- she would have to be, being the first lady knight in Tortall in-"

"But _really _seeing her," Cyne persisted. Deryne frowned, then opened the door to let the other girl in.

"What do you mean?" Eyes blazing with an uncharacteristic excitement, Cyne grabbed Deryne's forearms, the question exploding from her lips as though the Kyprian could no longer stand the suspense.

"How would you like to go to the Swoop?"

* * *

_AN: Yes, Alanna was clever. Why stay at the palace when Cyne and her friends could visit the Swoop with Lady Alianne while ambassadors go through all the tricky stuff? And if they bring along a friend, so much the better... D_


	18. Chapter 17: Water, Wind, and Flame

_AN1: This is definitely a friendship building/defining chapter. But hopefully not dull- _

_After all, this group is anything but dull. ;p_

_It was VERY fun to write, so it'll- probably/hopefully- be very fun to read, too._

* * *

_AN2: … um, fun with a turning point. A very large surprise for me. You see, I don't write my characters. They tell me their own story and…eeee… I had not expected that. You see, I wrote that first AN before I finished the chappie… and can I say wow? I REALLY did not plan that. Um, yeah, I can promise you it isn't boring now?_

_Actually, it's rather shocking, I think. Never in a million years would I have guessed that happening…. But you can read and find out for yourselves…._

_Thanks to all reviewers- I hope you like this chapter just as much- **Heiress of Lohaust**, **dreamgirl404**, **SarahE7191**, **C. T. Eleckzo**_**, _Shang Leopard_** **_abyssgirl_**_, **cahawk**, and my beta, **KyrieofAccender**._

* * *

_ Chapter 17_

_Water, Wind and Flame_

The sun burned the back of her neck as Deryne ran across the dunes. The wind knifed her in the back, forcing her onwards. Gasping for breath, she pushed herself down the beach, her feet slipping in the sand.

A wide grin on her face, Deryne glanced back behind her, where Cadel was gaining on her heels. Turning back to the finish line made of driftwood and small shells, the girl tore towards the yelling crowd of children.

"Come_ on_, Deryne!" Merle bellowed above the shrieks of excitement. "Beat him!" She could hear Cadel struggling to draw even with her, and this gave her an extra burst of energy that pushed her to the end- She sprinted over the line to the cheers and groans of her companions.

"Ha!" Deryne stopped, her hair mussed. "I-"

"Look out!" She managed to whirl halfway around to see Cadel slam into her, knocking her over into the sand. She yelped, then threw a mock punch at her cousin.

"I didn't do it on purpose!" Cadel explained as the two tussled, trying to get up as they did. The bout ended with him tossing Deryne a few feet away. "I didn't expect you to stop!" Deryne smirked.

"You couldn't accept that I won?"

"It was close!" he protested, but he laughed.

"Besides, Deryne _just _raced against Brand, too. _Then _she beat you." Merle- an endless flurry of energy- grabbed Deryne's arm and held it high. "The winner and still champion!" she crowed. "Any of you other boys want to give it a shot? Even when she's exhausted from _two_ races?" Deryne shook her head.

"Not exhausted, Merle," she corrected, her gaze falling on the waves breaking on the shore. "I feel I could run forever-" She closed her gleaming gray-blue eyes to savor the feel of the wind as it blew around them.

Deryne had beaten Brand a few days ago when they had just arrived after the boy decided to brag that he was the fastest boy in the land. After that, Meq, Cadel, and the few kitchen boys at the Swoop raced him. He beat them all, though it had been very close against Cadel and Merik, who was the Baron's messenger. Then Deryne had raced him, and outstripped him easily. The boy had argued that he had been tired, and requested a rematch, and Deryne had given it to him today and_ still _won.

"Don't worry, mate," Cadel clapped Brand on the back, his solemn brown eyes glittering. "You should be able to beat her in an archery contest, even if you've never picked up a bow before-"

"Hey!" Deryne yelped. The group of children began giggling as Cadel dashed behind Cyne and out of his cousin's reach. The boy grabbed Cyne and kept her from escaping by pinning her arms down at her sides. Laughing, the Kyprian tried to wriggle out of her captor's grasp, but failed.

"My hostage!" Cadel told Deryne as she advanced. As the page girl circled the pair, he kept Cyne between them. Of course, there was a point where that meant turning his back to the rest of the pack.

Deryne kept her mouth straight as she watched someone crept up behind her cousin, struggling not to giggle and give him away-

_Wumph! _Cadel yelled as his feet were knocked out from behind him. He tried to drag Cyne down with him, but the girl escaped behind her brother, who stared down at his friend seriously.

"Traitor!" Cadel squawked, mock glaring.

"Sorry, mate," Meq said, lip quivering with mirth. "A boy's gotta watch out for his sister, right?" He bowed to Deryne, who clutched her sides as she laughed. "Your prisoner, milady."

* * *

It had been nearly two weeks since Cyne had asked Deryne to come to the Swoop. It seemed that Lady Alanna had requested that the delegation's children come to her fief, where there would be more security against kidnappers and other kinds of trouble. She had also extended the invitation to Cadel, Rikash, and Deryne because Cyne had asked and the Lioness knew their parents. After all, Cadel's mother was the only other lady knight in Tortall and Deryne's father had been the formidable woman's squire. Rikash called her Aunt in informal settings; his parents knew her very well from the Immortals Wars. And Mequen was Cyne's brother; if anyone had the right to come with her, it was he.

But Rikash had declined to come to the beach with them; Deryne would bet the last of her coins that he was up on the Swoop's balcony, scrying. The Baron had explained it was an ideal place to practice, though Deryne had missed the reasons why. When they came back for lunch sand-covered from a morning playing on the beach, Deryne did not stop to change; she jogged up to the Swoop's tower.

Her lips quirked in a smile as she stepped out onto the balcony; Rikash stared out at the sea, his clothes billowing in the gusts that roared through. Deryne silenced the sudden wave of _gudruna_; the breezes up there probably carried news from everywhere up and down the coast. That was a little too much _gudruna _for her to handle at a time. She crept up behind her friend, tapped him on the shoulder, and stepped to the other side of him when he looked behind his shoulder for the person. His lips twitched.

"Hello, Deryne," he said before turning to face her. "I'm surprised to see you; I'd think this is a little too much information-" He waved a hand around in the air. "-for your mind to feel at a time."

"I'm holding it back," she admitted as she stared down; it would be a_ long _way to fall.

"You know, I had a thought," Rikash said, amber eyes watching her.

"Oh?" She smiled. "Careful what you say. My magic here-" Her fingers spread at the wind's touch, straining to sense more. "-is strong. _I'm _strong." Her eyes flickered up to Rikash's face; his brow was furrowed. "So strong I could slam you into the wall if you insult me, even if you are a boy two years older." She poked him in the shoulder. "Why the frown? What deep thoughts are you contemplating now?" She grinned. "I beat Brand and Cadel down there. Is that why you didn't come down? Didn't want to get beaten? Chicken." Rikash glared at her.

"You want to know what I'm thinking or are you going to talk all day?" he demanded. Excusing his surliness, Deryne pursed her lips, then shrugged. "It's funny that you say you feel strong." His head jerked up to the scorching sun. "I've been trying to avoid all forms of fire…. Even the sun, recently."

"No wonder you've been so grouchy." Deryne poked him again. "That won't keep you healthy. Keep some color in that skin, or you'll start looking like a corpse." Rikash's eyes narrowed; she smiled disarmingly. "Somebody's gotta be able to insult you to your face, Ri. Otherwise what would you be?"

"A great deal more dignified," Rikash grumbled, though his expression told Deryne he was fighting off a smile.

"You have enough dignity for a conservative," she said flatly. "I need to chip some of that away, or you'll be mistaken for one of them. You're coming down to the beach today, and see if you don't get tossed into the water."

"I doubt it," he tried to answer darkly, but Deryne laughed.

"Don't act like that! I saw that smile!" She patted him on the back. "There's hope for you, after all." Shaking his head with consternation, Rikash chuckled.

"But what I wanted to tell you was that _I _feel stronger too, out here in this heat-" Deryne snorted.

"The heat is something _I _could do without." Rikash ignored her as he turned his pale face up to the sun.

"But- the power- don't you feel it?" Deryne shrugged.

"I suppose," she replied, puzzled. "But I'd rather be by the ocean. It's cooler down there, with the wind and everything-" Rikash opened his eyes to stare at her with an odd expression on his face. "What? Do I have something stuck between my teeth?"

"No," he answered, his voice very slow as he scrutinized her. "Just…" He cleared his throat. "I wonder, if you tried to meditate up here, open your mind-"

"I'd be assaulted by _gudruna_."

"Not if you controlled it." As he spoke, his voice trailed away to a murmur as his eyes grew distant and calculating, the way they did when he was immersed in thought. Deryne waited what she thought was an appropriate amount of time, then raised an eyebrow.

"So… if I _did_," she said, humoring her friend. "And allowed them to fill me up and open my mind more and more-"

"Then you'd just be more accustomed to have nothing but the _gudruna _in your head. I don't think there's another place you could truly do this sort of exercise-"

Nothing but _gudruna. _Deryne shivered.

"But if I was nothing but that, what would _I _be?" Rikash raised an eyebrow at her, as though he studied someone who had lost her mind.

"You'd be in there, too," he said slowly. Before Deryne could protest, he held up a hand to quiet her. "And I'll stay with you, all right? I'll keep you from- from doing whatever you seem to be concerned about." The girl smiled softly at him.

"Thanks, Ri," she sighed before gazing back out at the ocean. "It sounds like it might help me with control." She tried to block out any ominous thoughts and feelings growing inside her. After all, she might be worried about the _gudruna_ overwhelming her, but it was a silly fear. It was what she wanted; she wanted to be able to sense them, let them flow through her until they were as meaningless as the simple breezes they rode on, to alarm her only when she was in danger. "I guess."

* * *

Deryne retired to the rooms she shared with Merle and Cyne with a tired smile.

Rikash_ had _come to the ocean with the rest of the children. He even joined in the game of tag Merle initiated. And he had even gone into the waves with those brave enough to venture in. In fact, he had had the nerve to dunk her right when she had first ventured into the cold. She had splashed at him until he fled for the beach, where Merle and Cyne sat.

It was curious, how Cyne was content to watch the sea; she declined to enter it with the others-

Deryne still remembered how the Kyprian girl had plead with the Stormwing; she shied away from her Gift. Maybe it would not be a good idea to bring her to Numair…. Deryne sighed, then plopped down on the soft cot.

It was Cyne's choice. Deryne could only hope for her friend's sake that she would not always hide.

Instead, her mind turned to the two men she had meet tonight, Lord Thom and Sir Alan, Alanna's sons. Sir Alan and Lord Thom of Pirate's Swoop.

Not Thom of Trebond. Was Thom of Trebond Alanna's father?

No- he had been Lord Alan, not Thom-

A grandfather? An uncle? A brother?

Not a brother; he would be well-known. Any brother of the Lioness-

The door slammed open as Merle bounced in. Deryne half-rose, frowning in thought as she returned the redhead's greetings.

"Merle…," she said slowly. "Do you know who Lord Thom of Trebond is?" Merle stopped in the action of removing her sandy shirt, frowning.

"There's my- uh, Lord Thom, if that's who mean." Deryne watched the girl as she thought. Her genuine honesty left Deryne believing she did not know.

"No. Someone else. And I know Lord Thom is your uncle. Meq told me." Merle blinked, then plopped down on her mattress.

"Oh." She cleared her throat. "I dunno. To be sure, my uncle is named after _someone. _I can ask my ma, if you want-"

"Would you?" Merle's teeth flashed in a grin as the girl began to change into her night shift.

"Of course. Now you've aroused my curiosity. Rest assured; I'll find out."

* * *

"Watch out, Deryne-" The warning came too late; Cadel's sword-stick knocked hers out of her hands as he swept his leg underneath hers. Deryne fell with a yelp into the sand. She held her hands out as Cadel flourished his mock blade and pointed to at her throat. Merle, Cyne, and the village girls all groaned.

"I didn't know we were doing hand-to-hand combat. Dirty cheater." She accepted Rikash's hand; he pulled her up to her feet as she brushed sand off of her bottom. "As if you couldn't beat me without tricks."

"I'm saving your dignity," Cadel insisted. "Otherwise you would have to admit that I beat you, fair and square."

"Wish she'd do the same in a foot race, eh?" Rikash ran a hand through his blond hair; its strands gleamed like gold in the sun. "She won't." Deryne shoved him playfully, then glanced around.

"Where's Merle?" It had been a week and a half since Merle had first agreed to help her, but despite her claim of curiosity for the mystery, she had _still _not done anything to investigate. Perhaps, finally, the girl had snuck off to figure it out without hindrances.

"She left the moment she saw us start," Cadel told her before grinning. "Probably couldn't bear to see me beat you." Deryne made a face at him and picked up her stick. She flipped it around in her hands.

"We'll see about that," she retorted as their friends backed out of the way again to watch. "If I'm going to be beat, I might as well get trounced thoroughly. Arms up, Broakhale."

* * *

"What'd you find out?" Deryne whispered as Merle joined their group as they made their way back to the kitchens; they had missed dinner with the adults and would now have to beg form the cook. She scowled, then shook her head. They were at the back of the group and nobody had noticed the redhead's return yet.

"Later. Much later," she added under her breath as Brand turned around.

"Decided to join us again, huh? Too good to play on the beach? I thought you were going to- what was your phrase? Knock me into the sand and bury my head into the dirt?" The girl scowled at him.

"Did I miss a chance to muss your hair? So sorry," she retorted sardonically. Then she reached up and rubbed her friend's head.

"Hey!" Deryne smiled as Merle easily distracted the others from her disappearance. It seemed she knew how to keep things quiet.

Not that Deryne had ever asked her to not mention it. Perhaps the redhead did not want questions surrounding her family, especially since it seemed that her friends did not know of her legendary grandmother….

"Are you really as bad at archery as Cadel says?" Deryne turned and grinned at Cyne.

"Yup," the girl answered cheerfully. "But I'll work on it when I get back to the palace." She made a face. "You see, I had a little incident when I last practiced alone-" She grimaced, recalling the mysterious arrow. It seemed ages ago-

And_ that _reminded her of Irani's prophecy. And of Yama's Festival. Her face fell slightly as her eyes fell on Rikash, who was joking around with Cadel and Brand.

At least _his _problems seemed finished. At least Deryne could be grateful for _that_.

* * *

Cyne accompanied Merle and Deryne straight to their rooms, and the page girl never had a chance to talk to the Lioness's granddaughter alone. She eyed the redhead curiously as she settled herself comfortably into bed. Once, when she caught the other girl's gaze, Merle had shook her head.

Deryne decided that she would just have to wait until morning.

* * *

She was on the white cliff again; that quiet wilderness above the water. She flinched, remembering how the _gudruna _had attacked her last time she was there-

She heard a kestrel cry, high above her, and looked up in time to see one soar above her. She smiled, shielding her eyes from the sun in the pink sky to watch the bird as it dived down towards the waves. Breezes rushed through the grass and flowers as she sat down. The itch to let go and open her mind to the winds grew as the zephyrs played through her fingers and hands. She sank into them, cautiously letting go of her guards.

Then she shrieked as the wind grabbed her and yanked her down the coast. Suns rose and set and moons played across the sky as she flew.

A lazy smile played across her face as the breezes pulled her east, towards the Scanran mountains and forests- Paths wove like snakes through the world below-

"Deryne! Wake up!" Deryne sat up and glared sleepily at Merle as the memory of flying faded. A candle in her hand, the redhead jerked her head at the door. She was fully clothed. Wearily, Deryne rubbed her eyes.

"What-"

"Shush!" Merle jerked her head towards Cyne. "Follow me, and stay quiet, will you?" Yawning, the girl rose and slipped into a coat and her boots and slid out the door. Merle closed it behind her gingerly. "C'mon-" Deryne followed her down the corridor; when they reached the staircase, Merle began climbing it.

"Where are we going?" Deryne hissed, feeling more awake in the chilly passageway. Merle muttered something, then whispered loudly.

"Library. We are getting to the bottom of this-"

"Whaddya mean-?"

"Ma wouldn't tell me anything," Merle snapped. "Except her brother is named after her uncle-" Deryne frowned as they approached the doors that led to the fairly large reading room.

"The Lioness has a brother? But-"

"He's dead," the redhead said flatly as she opened the door and strode in. "But she wouldn't tell me anything else! I'm not even sure she knew anymore-"

"You'll wake someone up yelling like that," Deryne murmured, shutting the door behind her. "So why here-"

"There has to be _something _in here," Merle retorted heatedly. "He was a mage, and-"

"Have you tried asking your uncle? He would know his namesake's-" Deryne fell silent as the door opened behind her; both girls whipped around as Lord Alan of Pirate's Swoop peeked in. His eyebrows rose.

"Deryne of Queenscove and Merle Crow lurking about in the dark of night?" he queried, a half-smile playing across his lips. "Couldn't be good. What's wrong? And where's Cyne? Sleeping too deeply to wake up for nighttime gallivanting?" Page training took over; Deryne made a short bow to the knight.

"Sir," she said nervously. Sir Alan looked like his sister Alianne; both had the same copper-colored hair, and his eyes were the same shade of hazel. Their faces were even similar; they would probably have had the same nose if Lady Alianne had not clearly broken hers several times. But he had a bright, welcoming grin that contrasted sharply with his sister's wry smirk; Deryne had liked him more than his brother, who had an air of dignity that reminded her of Rikash and kept her wary of the stranger.

"Please. It's too late for that. Or should I say too early?" He grinned, then chuckled. "You're lucky it wasn't my mother you woke up; she likes her sleep."

"I'm sorry we woke you up," Deryne said, forcing herself to look the man in the eye. He snorted.

"I was up. Can't you tell?" He gestured to his tunic, breeches, and sword belt; had he been on guard duty? Certainly not; it was_ his _home. As if reading her mind, Sir Alan smiled. "I enjoy standing watch with the men-at-arms. Many of them have been here since I was a boy." Then he slipped in and closed the door. "Now, what can I do for you?" Deryne and Merle exchanged glances, then Merle squared her shoulders and faced her uncle.

"Who was my great uncle?" she demanded in a sharp, clipped voice. Sir Alan looked at Deryne.

"You know, then?" he asked. "I thought you didn't want folk knowing your lineage, Merle."

"She already knew," the Lioness's granddaughter replied, crossing her arms over her chest. "And she- and I- want to know who Uncle Thom is named after." Sir Alan watched both girls for a moment, then sighed.

"You know who he is," he said glumly. "A powerful mage. Stronger than my mother." Deryne's eyes widened.

"But- but the Lioness fought off the Ysandir!" she exclaimed. "Demons- and she fought for the Dominion Jewel, and-" Alan's eyes twinkled.

"And my uncle could raise the dead," he answered wryly, his face steadily growing darker. Deryne could not suppress a soft gasp. "The strongest mage in centuries, perhaps. Certainly stronger than Numair Salmalin. But not greater." He cleared his throat. "Maybe Salmalin _could_, if he wanted to. But he would never meddle with such forces." Deryne's eyes flickered to Merle, who stared at her uncle with her mouth partially open. "You know the Lioness killed the Duke of Conte, the traitor, in that one, final battle." Deryne barely managed to nod when he glanced at her. "Everyone knows of it; how my mother went after the mage and killed him with his own sword. But I don't think she's ever told anyone the details of what happened there, or what she did-" He stopped for a moment, as though deliberating. Then he said, very quietly, "But that was not the first time she had killed him." Deryne's jaw dropped.

"You mean- her own _brother_-"

"He did not mean any harm by it," Sir Alan said quickly. "But he paid for his magic with his life; he nearly destroyed Tortall in his attempt to show the world the extent of his power." He paused for a delicate moment. "But it appears that he was not strong enough to fight Roger of Conte, back from the dead." He closed his eyes. "I remember, when my mother told me-" He cleared his throat loudly again. "Being a legend had downsides to it."

"No arguments there," Deryne murmured, still numbly trying to understand how the Nothing Man and this Lord Thom were connected. "Your uncle," she added hesitantly as the knight opened his eyes. "He went to the City of the Gods? To train his Gift?" Sir Alan's lips twitched in a bitter, dry smile.

"Aye. And left them with a Mastery before he turned twenty." Deryne's eyes widened; a _master_? Most mages did not bothering _trying _until they were in their thirties or forties!

"How-"

"He was powerful," Sir Alan said shortly. "My mother once said that they were equal in power, that she could have been just as strong-

"But that it terrified her. She avoided using it throughout her page and squire years. I suppose she took the better path than her brother."

"He raised the dead," Deryne whispered, marveling over the amount of Gift needed- the amount of study, will- "Imagine what he _could_ have done-"

"Aye. It hurts, doesn't it?" Sir Alan sighed, then ran his hand through his hair. "Anything else, girls?"

"No," Deryne said quietly. "But thank you."

* * *

_Neocromancy._ The Lioness's own brother-

"Can you believe that?" she whispered as she stroked Duskwing's feathers. The Chamber did not reply; he had probably already known. Since she was rooming with others, she had left her kestrel in the hands of the falconer. She could visit any time she liked, which she appreciated; everyone was so friendly at Pirate's Swoop. "I mean, she spent her _life _fighting this Duke, and then her own _brother _raises him back from the dead." She tried to imagine the terror; having fought and killed an enemy, only to find that he was alive and well again…. She shook her head. "I never did ask Aunt Kel about the Nothing Man," she muttered. "And I should probably ask her about Blayce the Gallan, too. I asked Myles, but you did want me to ask her, Chamber," she added absently, smiling at the thought of talking to a bird. It was true that animals were more clever with the two Wildmages living in the palace, but they were not humans. Besides, the Chamber and Duskwing were two entirely different beings-

She shook her head at the oddness of it all, then turned her head to smile at the falconer.

"Would it be possible to fly him, while I'm here?"

"You know how, missie?" She nodded, and the man smiled.

"I'm certain we could figure-"

"Deryne!" Both of them turned to see Merle, hands on her hips. "C'mon, then!" she insisted. "Beach! Rikash wants to show us some magic thingy he needs your help for!" Cyne was by her side; she made a rueful face behind her friend's back. Deryne smiled.

"Just a moment- I have to-"

"Go on," the falconer chuckled. "I know better than to keep a lady waiting. I'll care for your bird." Deryne frowned.

"Are you-"

"Come _on_!" Merle was tired of waiting; she grabbed Deryne by the arm and dragged her off.

"Thank you, sir!" she called back as he made his way towards Duskwing. He smiled and waved just as Merle whisked them away.

They had not performed the whirlwind of fire since the disastrous results in Sir Myles's study, but it only took some pleading from some of the younger servants' children for Deryne to consent. When she reached for her Gift, it came too readily, tearing at her clothes and sucking the sand into the air. The others yelped and covered their faces.

Now more wary, she slowed the flow of magic rushing through her veins until sand was no longer flying all around them, grinning widely when Rikash added flame to the sand grains whipping about in the miniature tornado. All the shrieks of delight from the Swoop children made her laugh; the fire whipped around faster and faster-

She caught sight of Cyne, biting her lip. Then she cleared her throat and stepped up to Deryne's side.

"Can I?" she whispered in a careful, soft voice. Deryne looked over at Rikash, who stared at the pair with dark, burning eyes. Then he nodded. Inhaling, her blue eyes gleaming with determination, Cyne flicked her fingers out; at the very top of the whirlwind, water swooshed around, creating steam as it poured down through the flame-filled air. Smiling faintly, Rikash spread his palm, and the fire grew in strength. Cyne returned his challenge with more water, Deryne spinning the breezes until neither power touched the other except for the rare skim, at which steam would hiss and rise through the air-

As she gazed into the flames, her vision blurred; her eyes widened as she caught sight of figures, bending and unbending- There was a shadow in the center of the whirlwind, hidden by the flame and water as they danced wildly-

Her breath caught as she felt the whirlwind suck her Gift and her control away from her; in her mind, she sensed alarm, from both Rikash and Cyne- The three powers grew, determined to break free-

The wind roared through her ears, drawing her towards the lethal whirlwind as it grew. Red and blue light glowed in her vision, burning away everything else. Dimly, she could hear the cheers of admiration from the others; it seemed like they saw nothing wrong-

Then she felt it. Something _alive_, feeding off of her, draining her of Gift, mind, and life-

She screamed, then- with a renewed will- slammed her power down, cutting herself away from the whirlwind. She fell to the sand, breathing heavily as she gazed around her; Rikash and Cyne were also on the ground, trembling. There was no flame or water anywhere to be found; even the air was perfectly still, something Deryne had grown to believe impossible by the sea.

"Ooo, look!" One of the smaller village boys dashed forwards to the spot where the whirlwind had been; Deryne wanted to scream at him to get away, but she was too weak to do anything but watch as he bent down and picked something up.

"You alright?" Merle asked as she knelt down between Deryne and Cyne. Rikash had already sat up and shook his head at Cadel when his friend approached.

"That was… a little out of control," Deryne whispered, trying to see what the little boy held. His friends gathered around him, then began to pick out other things out of the sand.

"A… a little exciting," Cyne agreed, staring at the spot.

Exciting, indeed! See if Deryne ever did _that _little experiment again! She watched as Cadel bent over to pick another one of the somethings from the ground. One eyebrow rose as he looked over at Deryne. Then, her cousin slowly made his way over, walking across the sand as though he stepped on glass. Rikash rose shakily and walked over to where she sat, but remained standing as Cadel knelt.

"A token," he said shortly, tucking something cool and smooth into her hand before turning to hand another something to Rikash. Deryne opened her palm.

There, glinting in the hot sunlight, a small piece of smooth glass sparkled. Frowning, she lifted it up to stare at it. Small, hairline cracks inside it formed a tiny symbol, barely noticeable against the blue sky. She looked first at Cyne, then at Rikash. Both stared back at her grimly.

"I'm never doing magic again," Cyne said shortly, then- gripping Merle's shoulder tightly- she rose and turned her back on them, walking away-

Sighing, Deryne gazed back at the place the whirlwind had been. Cadel hauled her up and patted her on the back.

"You alright?" Deryne nodded; after studying her pale face for a moment, her cousin nodded and jogged after Cyne and Merle. Brand and Meq followed, leaving her and Rikash to watch the squealing children dig through the sand.

"It was so beautiful," she whispered. "I just-"

"Lost control," Rikash finished quietly as they watched one of the bigger village boys whoop, waving around a rather large piece of smoothed glass. Deryne nodded, burying her face in her hands.

"Did you see something? In the water and flame?" she asked, not daring to look at him. There was a long silence.

"I thought I did," he said lowly. "But that's not new; I've always been able to see shadows in flames." Deryne nodded.

"I bet Cyne saw them, too," she muttered. "Bet it terrified her. I thought that the exercise might lessen her fear- it's so gorgeous-" She gazed down at the glass in her hand.

"Well, I'll be surprised if she can even speak to us after this," Rikash said darkly. "Did you see the look on her face?"

"She can't help it!" Deryne protested, rising to the other girl's defense. She glared at her friend; undaunted, he glared back.

"She's scared out of her wits." His cold, mocking analysis stunned her.

"And you aren't?" Deryne snapped, eyes blazing. "I dare you to say it. Say you aren't scared!" Rikash's mouth twitched disdainfully.

"I can face my fears," he retorted. "I don't let them control me. I'm not a coward." Deryne gasped. How could he say that?

"You- Cyne isn't a coward!"

"Maybe not." Rikash's amber eyes were hard. "But she isn't strong, either. Not strong enough for that Gift of hers." Deryne scowled.

"She isn't weak! Just because you flaunt your Gift wherever you go doesn't mean everyone loves theirs so much!" Sir Alan's story about his mother's fears popped into her mind. And the Lioness was nothing if not strong.

"And I suppose _you_'re one to talk," Rikash spat.

"What do you mean?" Deryne's voice rose sharply. He sneered.

"Talking about those _gudruna_, reading people's minds, invading their private worlds- you _love _it, and then you shy away from the hard work! The mediation! The will to command your Gift! Maybe you wouldn't have lost control just now if-"

"I don't read folk's minds!" she snarled back. Her fists clenched. "And you're just off your rocker! Me, lose control? Well, I wasn't the _only _one-"

"How about that time a few weeks ago?" Rikash demanded heatedly. "When you start _talking _in my head-" Deryne's jaw dropped; she stared at him incredulously.

She wanted to hit him. _Hard. _Wind whipped around them, forming an armor that snaked around her body. She pushed her fury away; Rikash was her _friend-_

"I needed _help! _Me and Cyne were-" Rikash laughed harshly, and Deryne felt sick. Why- what were they doing fighting like this?

"Well! That worked well, didn't it? And then you needed me to save you because you couldn't fight! Look at that! Even the weakling could fight Stormwings! Even she has more power than you, even if she can't use it!"

"Shut up," Deryne said in a low growl. She was near to tears; if she spoke any louder, she would burst. Rikash ignored her.

"But no, all you could do was stand there! You couldn't just get up and save yourself!"

"I was-" Her voice broke; she wiped her eyes roughly. She was _not _going to cry!

"You were what? Waiting to die? Waiting to be saved? Well, maybe if you decided to _use _your actual power instead of fooling around with trying to _predict_ what's going on around you-"

"What do you think my power _is_?" She didn't even know what they were fighting about; all she knew was that one of them was about to snap. She couldn't stop herself, could do nothing but watch as words burst from her mouth. "The great and mighty Rikash is pleased with himself when he makes _flowers! _You can't control yourself- you're one to talk about _that!_ Always turning everything to flame-"

"If you haven't noticed, I haven't done that in months!" Rikash volleyed back sharply. "_You _are the one who's behind now, Deryne, the one who's the problem, not me!" He cocked an eyebrow at her mockingly. "You're the weak-willed one, the frightened one. You're the one running away from your Gift? What do you do instead of mastering your power? You become a page, that's what you do! So you don't have to deal with it anymore!"

"_That isn't true!_"

Something broke inside her; rage ripped through Deryne. Everything before her- all of it- everything he said, everything she felt- was so new, so absurd, coming out of nowhere-

Before she knew what had happened, she had punched Rikash and shoved him to the ground. Her magic shattered the weakening hold her mind retained; it slammed into his mind, trying to overwhelm it. When Deryne realized what was happening, she tried to pull her Gift away from Rikash, but to no avail. _Gudruna _tore at him, bringing tiny whispers and images to fill her head- She knelt down beside his writhing form, screaming his name.

_Try not to kill anyone. Yet- _

_ …you _have_ enough power to do something like that, even if you wouldn't. _Flames burning at his skin, at _her _skin-

_ Nothing to talk about? Do you want me t' start?_

_ Someone has to keep you humble-_

Then she felt him respond to her magic; she felt him begin to fight it-

She felt him find the connection between their minds, and relief coursed through her. He would break it, break and they would both be fine-

A moment later, she felt him wield his own Gift. He was going to attack her.

Too stunned to cry out, she sensed his magic as it rushed towards hers; hot flames burned her mind, ripping her _gudruna _and clinging to her-

She felt Rikash shove her into the sand and she lashed out, tears of pain rushing down her cheeks. What was he doing? She struggled, trying to fight him off but not hurt him-

But his Gift dominated hers, grasping it and refusing to let go until finally-

"Rikash!" she screamed. The flames seared through her veins. Then the pain was gone. Trembling, she opened her eyes. Rikash sat on top of her, his face rigid. Without a word, he stood, not breaking eye contact with her. He did not help her up. Shaking, she looked back at him. "Ri," she whispered. The cold stare he gave her was enough to reduce her to tears.

"Out of control, Queenscove," he whispered roughly. Then he spun around and stalked away, towards the path back to the Swoop.

Deryne gazed after him, mouth open. Slowly, she eased herself onto her elbows.

What had happened?

* * *

_AN: What indeed? My characters have yet to clue me in... Well, since I know them rather well, I can guess... but I don't know for sure yet. I guess I'm just going to have to keep writing..._

_And I realize that this is a very 'cold water' shock... but I have it because this is how the story flowed and it makes sense... _

_ Yup, I began writing next chappie- It has been explained..._

_Okay, hands up. Who didn't see this coming? _

* * *


	19. Chapter 18: Feasts and Falls

* * *

Eeee... my apologies. I was stuck on a small part, which is why I am two days late. Thanks to reviewers **SarahE7191**, **Heiress of Lohaust**, **cahawk**, and **Shang Leopard**. I really do like reviews- they are reassuring, especially now that Rikash has decided to be a pain in the neck and act in ways I did not expect... crazy, stupid boy... ;p

And yes, certain characters are rather angsty in this chapter... I think Deryne- being Deryne- bounces back pretty quickly, but all the same... apologies to angst-haters in advance.

* * *

_Chapter 18 _

_Feasts and Falls_

_July 21 477 H.E._

Rikash ran, ran hard. He shoved past Sir Alan as the man strode down the path; he ignored the man's calls as he fled. His breath roared in his ears, his mind was awhirl. His chest pounded in rhythm with his feet as they slammed down along the path through the forest, away from the Swoop-

He felt sick, like there was something inside him that was eating away at him.

He had hurt her. He had _insulted _her, _harassed _her, _attacked _her- Deryne, one of his closest friends-

Bile rose in his throat as he remembered how he had thrown her to the ground, how he had pinned her down, forced her into the sand-

And how she had screamed his name in panic and pain, calling him back from that murderous rage. How she had whispered his name, her eyes glittering with tears….

Her voice echoed through his head until he could no longer see where he was. He needed to get away, that was all he needed to know-

If he got far enough away, maybe he would stop hearing her voice, stop seeing her eyes-

He wanted to burn something-

But he _had _already; he had burned _her_. Not physically, but he knew the mental agony of what he had done to her-

_That's all I do, _he thought bitterly. _I hurt and burn and destroy and _nothing _else-_

He needed Inar's help, as shameful as it was to admit it. The Link was not just a mental exercise, as he had told his parents and Deryne. It was a spell…. One that controlled his Gift-

A very complex spell that had to be regulated. Inar had assured him that he would be fine. The squire had discovered that Rikash's power was almost too strong for the apprentice to handle; it left him angry and exploded irregularly, but had also insisted that it only took a few months for Rikash's mind to take control over his power.

_All you needed was some discipline to start it off. Now, without the spell, your mind can do all the work by itself. _

Inar was wrong.

And now he had done something he had _never _done before. He had snapped before, had threatened or yelled-

But he had never hurt anyone, let alone Deryne. Unable to bear it any longer, he threw himself down where he was, fists clenching as tears ran down his cheeks.

A breeze swirled through the trees, caressing his cold face. He hid it in his hands, trying to minimize its gentle touch. He didn't deserve it, not gentleness from Deryne's own power, not now-

Bushes rustled in the wind; a single leaf fell to the ground. Jaw tight, the boy stared at it for a very long moment.

Slowly, the flimsy, green leaf began to smoke. Then flames licked its sides, gradually growing, turning it to ash and traveling on to more leaves-

Feeling numb, the apprentice mage rose again, then waved his hand sharply. Instead of going out, the fire rose, shooting up across the path before fading.

Eyes wide with horror, he stared at the spot. Now his Gift would not obey him? Was it all happened again? The flames, the loss of control- Heart thudding loudly in his ribs, Rikash spun back around and sprinted away towards the Swoop.

* * *

Deryne cried, her hands rubbing furiously at her burning eyes. She didn't care that her hands were sandy, her hair a mess-

She _felt _a mess inside.

First of all, everything Rikash had said… had he _really _thought that, all these weeks? Since before they arrived at the Swoop? On the beach? On the balcony? He had never let on… had never mentioned, hinted, insinuated-

He had to be scared about the whirlwind. Her insides turned to ice at the very thought of whatever had been growing in it, all the control she had carefully cultivated for months nearly ripped away-

_He must have panicked, _she thought bitterly. _So proud that he could control his Gift… panicked when it nearly disappeared- It must have been that._

And Cyne, vowing never to use her Gift again- Sobs wracked her body as she gasped for breath, hiccupping-

"Deryne?" The girl stiffened at the sound of the man's voice. Rubbing her face fiercely on her sleeve, then looked up at Sir Alan with a tremendous smile. He returned it with a frown.

"What in Chaos is going on?" he asked softly. "First, Cyne comes in with the others a mess, all chattering on and on about her and you and Rikash-" Deryne's face fell at the mention of his name. She could not summon the strength to look at the knight; she closed her eyes. "And then _he _comes running up the path like the hounds of the Goddess are on his heels-" Deryne couldn't help it; a small laugh escaped her. Then it turned into a sob, and she burst into tears again. "Why don't you come back with me now?" He sounded nervous.

He had probably never dealt with a weepy female before. The thought made her laugh and cry again.

"I-" She faltered. "Sorry," she finally managed. "I mean, I'm a page, and here I am crying my eyes out and-"

"Everyone cries sometimes," the knight answered in a reasonable voice. He cleared his throat, and Deryne felt him press a soft, clean handkerchief into her hand before he stepped away again. "Use that to neaten yourself up. We wouldn't want anyone knowing about this, I suppose?"

"You're being very nice," Deryne noted, sniffing as she rubbed at her eyes again with the soft cloth. "And here I wanted to give the Lioness a good impression and now-"

"My mother will certainly not think any less of you, page. But if you want to stay out here for a little longer, no one needs to know that you're… upset." Deryne drew a shuddering breath from the air.

"Not everyone cries," she stated harshly. "_Some _folk are cold enough, even when they've got tempers that should be outlawed-"

"I dunno about that." Sir Alan was studying the horizon when she looked up. "Rikash seems to have the scariest fury I've ever seen, and he was near to tears when I passed him on my way here."

"Good," Deryne said bitterly. "I hope he-" Then she paused, meeting Alan's gaze. "He was?" she asked, suddenly trying to imagine Rikash crying. The knight nodded solemnly, watching her carefully. Deryne's eyes fell to the knight's feet as a rush of thoughts and feelings washed over her. He was upset, as upset as she was…? She cleared her throat, then stood. "My apologies, Sir Alan," she said in a formal, even voice, even managing to bow neatly. Then she jogged past him, slowing to a walk as she strode up the dunes.

She didn't know what she'd do once she found Rikash, but she knew she needed to find him. After all, he was her friend. She knew him, though not as well as she should, perhaps….

He had some calm, rational explaining to do. Deryne just hoped he was up to the task.

* * *

"Gone?" Deryne echoed, staring up at the Lioness.

Alanna of Pirate's Swoop nodded, her eerie violet eyes scrutinizing the girl. Her gray and orange hair was cropped short to frame her face.

"Gone," she repeated as Deryne sank down into the woman's chair. "Back to Corus. I wouldn't worry too much; it is a straight shot there, and Rikash had always been able to take care of himself. One of my men-at-arms went with him; he'll come to no harm." Her mouth quirked in a dry smile. "In fact, I'd like to see what's left of any man or woman who tried to pick a fight with that boy." The comment- which might have provoked a laugh on any other occasion- made Deryne's face crumple.

"But-" She groaned softly, tucking a hair behind her ear before she recovered herself. Apparently, Rikash had tried to steal out with his horse, but George Cooper had caught him and sent an escort with the boy, although _why _the man had just _let _Rikash leave everything behind was beyond her. Wasn't he supposed to be a sensible, responsible man? A small part of her told her that George Cooper _had _sent a man with her friend, but it did no endear the Baron to her, not when she _needed _to talk to Rikash. "Thank you, Baroness." The Lioness's lips twitched.

"Not a problem. And Deryne-" The girl whirled around, stomach plummeting. Obviously, the lady knight would want to know what was going on; Rikash was like a nephew to her…. But she just smiled. "I have received news that the Kyprian delegation will leave soon. I think you and your page friends will be returning to Corus in a few days." Deryne bowed. "Keep training hard, Deryne. Next time I see, I expect you to spar against me." The girl swallowed at the glitter in the pair of purple orbs.

"Me?" Alanna chuckled, leaning back in the chair she sat in.

"Don't worry about hurting me, lassie. I can take care of myself, old grandmother I am. Your cousin, too. Your knight masters will have to visit." She smiled. "Which means no conservatives, for either of you." Despite her exhaustion, Deryne smiled wryly.

"I'll take your advice into consideration," she drawled. The Lioness cackled, but also waved a dismissive hand at the page.

"Pertness in a lass so young never means anything good," she snickered. "I think I like you; you just might survive to knighthood. Go be productive, Queenscove. Practice your archery out in the training yards. Word is a little work wouldn't hurt you there."

* * *

It was with hesitant steps that Deryne crept up the tower to the balcony she had stayed on with Rikash. She never _had _agreed to open her mind to the _gudruna- _

Her conversation with her companion the last time they had been up there together surfaced in her mind. He had scowled with annoyance when she continually refused to try.

"Don't you trust me?" he finally demanded, tired of subtle hints. "I'll keep you safe."

"I'm just not ready to do it," she had replied tartly. Seeing a fiery flicker in his eyes, she added quickly, "I want to, Ri, and I will before we leave. All your reasons to do it are good. Just- not today, all right?" He had watched her unblinkingly for the long moment, then turned his head away to gaze out over the water.

Was that how the argument had started? Had he taken her reluctance as fear?

_Well, it is, in a way, _she thought as she slipped into the sunlight. _I suppose…. _She bit her lip, then scowled again.

_He still had no right to say what he did! And calling Cyne weak- _Stuffing her hands in her pockets furiously as she tried to forbid the memory from her mind, she felt the smooth side of the glass from the whirlwind. Her constant reminder of the fight. Resisting the urge to fling it over the side of the castle, the page pulled it out and held it up to the sky, studying its delicate surface. Little etchings were visible there, though there were no noticeable grooves when she ran her fingers along them. Four lines and an odd little crack that reminded her of an artist's rendering of flames. It looked vaguely familiar, but she could not think of where she might have seen it before….

Muttering something about stubborn boys, she thrust it back into her pocket. _Anything_- even _gudruna _possession of her mind- would be better than thinking about this…. Shutting her eyes, Deryne gingerly reached for her Gift. But the moment she touched it, she recoiled, remembering only the fiasco her magic had caused. Unbidden, Rikash's eyes flashed before her. Exhaling deeply, she shook her head, trying to free herself from all thought as she stared across the ocean listlessly.

_I can't do anything with help, _she thought, lips twitching. _I know he didn't mean it… but Ri is more right than he ever meant to be. _The thought made her laugh at herself; then her voice caught and- before she knew it- tears streamed down her cheeks in a surprising downpour.

* * *

_Crack! Crack! _Deryne's eyes glittered as she sparred against the off-duty man-at-arms. Cadel exchanged a look with Mequen.

"She looks… focused," was all the dark-haired boy had to say to Cadel, who grimaced. When both pages looked back over at their friend, Deryne was slamming her quarterstaff into her opponent's fiercely. She ducked a swing, blocked another blow, and smashed the wooden stick out of the man's hands. Cadel winced as it clattered several feet away.

"Meq, she's been at it for twenty minutes at least!" he hissed back. "And she's still going like she just started!" Incredulously, he watched as the grown man shook his head at the girl and grinned before pointing over at them.

"Gods dammit," Cadel muttered under his breath. Puzzled, Meq frowned. Then, as Deryne picked up the spare quarterstaff and began walking towards them, his eyes widened.

"That's definitely your duty," he muttered, pushing Cadel gingerly in his cousin's direction. "_You're_ the master of the staff." Cadel's hazel eyes grew huge.

"Against her? In this mood? I think _not_-"

"Cadel! Meq!" Deryne was beaming, beaming in a way that worried Cadel.

"Look at that- She's happy- you'll be fine," Meq muttered before smiling at her. "I think I'm going to find Cyne. Talk later, Deryne!" Cadel watched how Deryne seemed to falter at mention of the Kyprian girl, but she recovered quickly by tossing the staff at him.

"Come on, Broakhale," she said in a commanding voice. "I'm ready to get my butt kicked."

"I doubt it," Cadel grumbled in an undertone as he watched how her fingers tightened over her weapon.

"What was that?" she asked sweetly as she strolled back over to the center of the practice yards.

"That whirlwind incident's really been bugging the lot of you, hasn't it?" he answered loudly. Deryne did not reply; flourishing her staff, she focused her eyes on him.

"Hmm," she said in a way that made Cadel think she was not listening.

"I mean, I didn't see the big deal, 'cept that you all looked drained, but Rikash hightails it out of here, Cyne hides from you, and you-" He lifted his staff up to counter the first, reckless swipe she made at him. He knocked her staff away only to bring his back up to block a whip-like attack aimed at his head.

"I'm fine," Deryne answered through gritted teeth. "How are you?"

_Crack! _Cadel nearly lost his staff as hers slammed into his; he should have expected that after having seen her last few bouts with men-at-arms. She had not won them all, but the force of her blow had won her a few surprise victories.

"Good, so long as you don't crack my skull waving that stick around." _Crack! Crack! _Ducking the next cut, Cadel fixed his grip on the staff.

"I have faith in it," Deryne drawled, a smirk playing across her features. "It's always been very thick before now."

"Well, it seems to thinning, because I've noticed the same thing everyone else has." Deryne's eyebrows rose.

"And what might this be?" she asked politely. Cadel scowled.

"I've already told you. You know quite well. What happened when you three made the whirlwind?" Deryne pushed her staff up against his, forcing him back. He countered with a swing at her side, which she barely evaded by stumbling backwards. Not waiting for her to recover, Cadel leapt forwards and smacked her staff away. She tripped, falling on her back. Eyeing her stubborn face, he stared down at her.

Pained recognition flickered in her eyes for a moment; Cadel's brow furrowed.

"Are you all right?" he whispered as she closed her eyes. She inhaled shakily, then rubbed her face.

"It was a little draining, is all, as you said," she grunted from behind her hand. "All that magic- nearly spun out of control. Took a lot to pull it back." He cocked an eyebrow at her when she looked at him again, her eyes unusually bright.

"That all?" he repeated. She glowered at him and rose, shaking off dust from her clothes.

"Yes," she answered in an almost perfect even voice. But Cadel heard the quaver behind her words as she turned away. "I think I'll go inside now." She began to make her way towards the door to the keep.

"Cyne's hiding in the kitchens, I think," he said heavily. "We're leaving in a few days, you know. Do me a favor? Go and talk." Deryne stopped in mid-stride; looking back, she nodded before opening the door and disappearing inside.

* * *

Deryne mentally kicked herself for the hundredth time on her way down to the kitchen. Rikash, Cyne, Cadel- she had botched up the whole mess! Even Meq was avoiding her, fleeing when she came near-

Sighing ruefully, she shook her head as she entered the room. The cheerful, plump woman who was in charge of the kitchen servants waved as she plopped down a tray of biscuits in front of Cyne.

"Hello, dear!" she called. "There's plenty to eat here!" Deryne froze as Cyne turned to see who it was, paled, then rose. She mumbled an excuse and grabbed one pasty before fleeing out the back. Muttering curses under her breath, Deryne took a deep breath, then jogged out after her.

"Cyne! I want to talk to you! Gods, don't tell me you're going to run away, too!" She walked as fast as she could to catch up with the other girl, who stared ahead determinedly. "Isn't that childish? To run away from a friend because- because-" She struggled to find words to describe the incident. "-we had problems with a spell!" Cyne snorted; clearly, the words were an understatement. Deryne glared at her. "I won't ever work magic near you again, if that makes you happy!" It seemed to her that Cyne visibly relaxed at that assurance. "Really, what's wrong?" They reached the stairwell and Cyne headed up it silently. Deryne deliberated for a long moment before asking, "You saw the shape?" At these words, the girl stopped climbing and turned to Deryne, her eyes glittering.

"_Saw, _Deryne?" she hissed. "I _felt _it! _Heard _it! I- it was part of me!" With those furious words, she whipped back around to walk up the stairs again. Deryne matched her pace; Cyne sped up a little. Soon they were half-running up the steps. Despite her annoyance, Deryne laughed softly. "What?"

"This is absurd, Cyne. I- I don't even have words for it." When Cyne glowered at her, the page could not suppress a grin. A smile crossed Cyne's face and she shook her head ruefully as she stopped again.

"I know," she admitted in a low mutter. "Magic isn't supposed to be like that." Deryne sniggered.

"I meant the race up the stairs." Cyne blinked.

"Oh." Then she laughed. "That, too." Then she sighed. "What was that?"

"Dunno," Deryne replied promptly, sitting down on the stair where she was. "That never happened before. But it scared the sense out of Rikash." Despite Cyne's raised eyebrows, she did not elaborate.

"I don't blame him." The other girl plopped down next to Deryne. "I don't like being frightened," she said abruptly. "But my teacher- my father- all of them tell me how the Gift works, but it makes no sense. Their spells don't seem to work as well as the ones that just come to me. They show me techniques; I work out my own. Their ways just feel… _wrong_." She scratched her head. "And why should my Gift act any differently from everyone else's? Why are my methods seen as unconventional or odd compared with the time-honored experiments and-" Shuddering, she propped her elbows on her knees and buried her face in her hands. Deryne waited for a long moment, then patted her friend gingerly on the back.

"Being different… isn't bad," she said slowly. "You know that, right?"

"Isn't it?" Cyne shook her head. "I just don't know. I- I'm too much of a coward, I suppose." She smiled weakly.

"No," Deryne replied flatly, startling both of them. Then she pursed her lips. "No. I mean, you're scared, but you still use your Gift. You managed to save my life from that Stormwing fire. And then you thought to join in the whirlwind-" Cyne groaned, rubbing her temples.

"It looked so fantastic… I just had this sudden urge to- to use my Gift in it…" She sighed. "That's the last time I do something on impulse." Deryne decided to change the subject; perhaps she was being cowardly, evading the subject of the Gift, but she was too relieved that Cyne was not angry at her to push it.

"You know what I'd like to see?" she said thoughtfully. Cyne watched her with suspicion written over her face. Deryne grinned. "A duel between Brand and Merle. I haven't seen any of you lot use swords yet, and time is running on." Cyne snickered.

"You find Brand," she commanded, standing up with Deryne.

"And you get Merle." The girl began walking down the stairs, while Cyne made her way towards their rooms. "And Cyne?" She cleared her throat as the Kyprian looked down the steps. "Just 'cause stuff keeps going wrong is no reason to stop trying. Think about it?" She waited with bated breath as Cyne's brow furrowed. Then she nodded.

"I will," she promised. Then she went off in search of her red-haired friend.

* * *

Giggling until tears gathered in her eyes, Deryne watched as Merle and Brand whacked each other's sticks. Most wayward swings missed their opponent entirely, though it wasn't because of a lack of enthusiasm. Each whipped their own "blades" around at top speed, even if their aim was somewhat to be desired. Cadel sputtered at their atrocious grips as the two Islanders charged at each other.

"Not like that! You're gonna poke someone's-" But it seemed the crafty redhead had another idea in mind; as Brand sprinted past, Merle ducked and stuck her foot out. Eyes wide and foot caught, Brand flew several feet and tumbled to the ground. "Don't let go of your sword, Brand! Whaddya think you're doing-" But the advice came a little late; tossing down her own stick after seeing her friend had lost his, Merle dashed full speed at him as he tried to stand, knocking him back to the ground.

"I win!" she yelled triumphantly, half sprawled across her adversary. Brand snorted, then glared.

"How did you win when you lost your stick _and _are as down on the ground as I am?" Merle grinned, then tweaked his nose.

"Because I can get up if I choose," she declared regally. "You're stuck."

"Then get off of me! I can't breathe!" Merle cocked an eyebrow at him.

"You look fine to me," she replied, her grin widening as she stuck her elbow into his stomach. "Yes, I'm feeling very comfortable. I suppose I can rest here a few minutes longer."

* * *

It was curious, how the Lioness- the lady knight with a fierce temper- and her husband, a commoner, had so many books. Their library was larger than most Deryne had ever seen. But she was not complaining; reading was one way to keep her mind busy. She preferred to read until she fell asleep from pure exhaustion; there was less of a chance of having nightmares about the hag that way.

She gingerly placed the latest book she had borrowed into its now dust-free spot on the shelf. For whatever reason, she found herself more interested in the scrolls and books that looked like they had not been touched in years.

_I'm turning into Meq, _she thought, chuckling to herself. _Next thing I know, I'll be the one with my nose always in arcane scrolls of long ago- _

She strolled through the room, inhaling deeply until she coughed. Meq and Sir Myles had both told her of their love for the smell of parchment. Deryne supposed it sounded romantic and all, but she preferred the open, fresh air outside to the dense silence that seemed to weigh her down in the library. Running her finger along the shelves, she sank further and further back, until it seemed like the accumulated dust could only be scraped away. Smiling to herself, she held the candle in her hand higher; the lamps were not lit.

There was a door tucked away between the tall book cases. Curious, Deryne tried it: locked.

_I'll bet the key's nearby, _she thought. Surely it was. After all, anyone who wanted to get in would want it close. Unless the Lioness or her husband had locked it for reasons of their own and kept the keys on them-

But probably not; the _really _old books were probably in there. With this incentive, the girl took the first book that came to hand off of the shelf and opened it. Nothing but illegible script and fancy pictures. Sighing, she closed it and pushed it back to its place.

Finding the key would be nigh impossible. Any lock-opening spells would not work, not if it was a door Alanna the Lioness wanted kept shut. Still, the girl put her slender fingers up to the knob. Trembling, she recited a simple incantation Numair Salmalin had taught her long ago after she had sworn not to use it to break into any conservative debutante's rooms to play pranks.

Her magic molded into the lock, but Deryne could sense another spell protecting the door from penetration. Sighing ruefully, she withdrew her Gift.

"Well," she said softly, smiling. "Now I _have _to open it."

It did not take very long for the solution to puzzle itself out in her mind; clearly, with no key or lock picking skills, magic was the only way to open it. But the congenial Gift would not do, because the lock was spelled to protect against spells.

But what if she forced it open with something that the Gift would not see as a threat? Spells would not work against the protective charm, but what Gift resisted the air?

Pursing her lips, Deryne squatted down and glared into the simple lock. It was not hard to feel out the air in the dusty old contraption. She closed her eyes, pulling _gudruna _into her mind that mapped out the tiny space.

_Turn, _she thought furiously, sensing her magic fan out into the air. _Move, move _She could feel a tiny breeze swirl, stirring up the dirt-

_Break- _Then the air snapped, opening the lock with sheer force with a _click! _Deryne nearly fell from her precarious position in surprise. Out of guilty habit, she looked around furtively before easing herself back up onto her feet. Half-suspecting an alarm to go off at the intrusion, she reached out a cautious hand to push the door open, which swung open with a deafening creak.

The dark room was lined with shelves, but Deryne could hardly see several feet away from her face before she lit the ancient oil lamps mounted in the walls. Once able to take in her surroundings, the girl's eyebrows rose.

Only about half the cases were crammed with books; everywhere else, there was every crystal, bowl, and rune box imaginable. Excited shudders running through her, Deryne examined a set of seeing stones lying next to a silver basin; they gleamed in the light. Among all the pinks, clears, and blacks, one blood-red crystal caught her eyes. Her hand almost touched it; she swore she heard the faint whisper of a hiss as her fingers hovered above it, and hastily stepped back. There was a silvery-white veil half torn nearby, and several bottles of undefined substance. Then the books began; some had arcane titles in languages Deryne could make no sense out of. Some she had seen in Numair's study, others she was almost certain he had referenced in lessons-

There were a few smaller books with no titles along their spines. Curious, Deryne allowed her hand to rest upon the first one before she gingerly pulled it from its resting place. There was nothing but a faint few words numbers scribbled on its cover. Crossing the room to a light, the girl held the cover up to read.

_Theory Notes, Yr 1 _was all it said. Her eyebrows rose again. It would be a rich, spoiled person who used books- diaries- to write notes on any subject. She wondered again how old they were. They had to be valuable, to be locked away- Her fingers separated the brittle pages as she opened the book. The first page made her stop.

_Thom of Trebond _was written neatly in the right top corner of the first page, then _A Compilation of Notes on Magic Theory Regarding Transformation_.

"Lord Thom's notes?" she muttered. Well, of course Alanna would find her deceased brother's belongings valuable and something to keep to herself. The memories must hurt, but all the same why keep them all there….? "All those seeing crystals looked like top notch," she reasoned. Perhaps this was something that would be best left alone. But Deryne could not help herself from perusing the book. Fascinated, she scanned its pages. Much of it seemed more like sarcastic commentary on the ways the masters had taught, with additional thoughts that seemed to have nothing to do with whatever lesson was being taught.

_They have no minds, no reason or ideas of their own. They refuse to answer my questions or counter any ideas I present, claiming they are too revolutionary, and that they must 'stick to the material,' proving what a lot of fools they are! Pretending they know all there is to magic! I scare them, with my Gift and my mind- _Halfway through the book, the notes from teachers ended and explanations of Thom's own experiments began.

_He was brilliant, _Deryne realized as she read his concise, clear explanations. Despite that she knew little of the theories and laws that he mentioned, she almost felt as though she understood anyway. She flipped the book around so that she could study a diagram more closely. _What a waste- _

There was another one for conjuring, one for illusions, one for weather spells and water spells, one for fire manipulation, several for healing- Deryne scanned them all hungrily, not wanting to miss one word and yet knowing deep inside that it might take years to comprehend everything in the small diaries. She noted one part of the weather section detailing wind and its powers, how it related to other areas of magic.

_Fire and wind are often seen as the destructive powers, but wind is the balance between the flame and the healing water, the might that scatters and gathers-_

Realizing that she might be discovered soon- she did not know how long she had lingered in there- Deryne reluctantly tore her eyes from the words and put it back, her eyes landing on the final book of the series. She smiled; she had figured out by now that Thom must have organized all his notes into these diaries once he had lost interest in learning from the masters and had began his own research; he must have slowly added the experiments' notes later. They truly were masterpieces.

_And done mostly while he was still a student in the City of the Gods, _Deryne marveled as she brought the final book into the light. She wondered if Alanna had received them straight after her brother's death, or whether she had retrieved them later on in life. Not bothering to look over the titles, she opened it.

There were no sketches, just minuscule letters that had the look of being hastily, furiously scrawled. Brow knit at the challenge to her eyes in the dim light, the girl bent over it and found she was only able to make out one of several words. Some of them seemed to be coded-

_-studying this- if they were scared before- _She frowned thoughtfully as she leafed through it.

_-if one can return to the body, then it only makes sense that anyone might be possessed. _Her blue-gray eyes narrowed. _With the push from a great mage, any soul could take control of a body that was not theirs to begin with- _An uncomfortable feeling trickled down her spine, but Deryne ignored it, reading on. Then, one sentence captured her gaze; swallowing heavily, she found herself unable to take her eyes off of the hideous truth that stared her in the face, daring her to shut the book closed on it.

_It takes great concentration, but is possible with enough discipline and power, to call up ghosts and spirits from the realms of Chaos, to do one's bidding and corrupt a living body of the necromancer's choice. _

So _this _was what the great mage had fallen to. Deryne suddenly felt ill; shutting her eyes, she fumbled for the cover page of the diary. Of course she had known Thom of Trebond had erred, had taken the path of destruction and meddled in powers greater that himself…. She had constantly remembered his story and shaken her head over the shame-

But now she _witnessed _it; she held, in her hands, the proof of the genius gone wrong. As absurd as it was, reading the books had made the young, frustrated Thom seem real, a clever, intelligent young man working hard to show the world what he could do. And now it seemed as if he had betrayed himself and made the wrong decisions, the wrong explorations, before her very eyes.

She could only imagine the shock the Lioness had survived. When she looked back down at the first page, the bold ink confirmed her thoughts.

_Necromancy, A Compilation of Experiments. _Experiments. The idea made her sick.

_Because- of course- he never would have taken notes on it in any class, _she reasoned bitterly. So that had been the appeal to the young mage; the taboo subject-

Of course he had not obeyed an order to avoid a certain topic. Deryne could have told anyone that, just from his words in the earlier books. His scorn for the cowardliness of others, afraid to even discuss the magic-

"Deryne!" Leaping in the air, Deryne shoved the terrible diary back on the nearest shelf and dashed madly out of the room, barely managing to shut the door before Cyne whipped around the bookcase with Merle. "Of course!" Merle declared loudly. "Hiding in the dark, eh?" Deryne grinned, then shrugged, tugging the door more firmly shut behind her. "You know, it's not healthy to be in here for so many hours. I thought you musta snuck outside. See if I let you alone for a moment again before you leave." Deryne laughed, though her heart sank. She would not be able to explore that room again, nor read Thom's frightful but tantalizing words. Not if Merle had anything to do with it. "If you don't want to miss out on dinner, I'd suggest coming now. The lady Alanna and her husband wanted us all to dine together tonight; she said you're leaving soon, anyway." Deryne laughed, slightly louder than she thought was necessary.

"Well, it wouldn't be smart to keep the Lioness waiting." Making her way out of the library on her giggling friends' heels, Deryne willed the lock shut again, praying to whatever nearby gods that Alanna would not try to enter it and discover the damage until she was long gone.

* * *

There was no way around it. He would have to face them sooner or later.

Taking a deep breath, Rikash opened the door to his parents' suites and strode in. Daine, Numair, and Sir Myles all looked up in surprise. Conscious of their surprised stares, he gave a quick, formal bow and turned around to leave again.

"Rikash!" So his mother would _not _let him go so easily… Sighing as he faced them again, Rikash saw Daine's gray eyes narrowed. "What is it?" Ignoring a small voice inside his head that warned him against impudence, he raised an eyebrow.

"Does something always have to be wrong with me?" he queried. Sir Myles chuckled lowly.

"When you run in a few days before expected, without warning, and try to run out again without a proper greeting-" The old man tottered over to envelope the boy in an embrace. He patted him on the shoulder before letting go. "Yes, m'boy. There is usually something wrong when one has a stormy look like that." Rikash shrugged, forcing himself to smile.

"But maybe what Ma has always warned has finally come true." Pushing back an urge to rage, he grinned. "Maybe my face has finally gotten stuck like that." To his relief, all three adults chuckled. But his mother would need more convincing.

"So you decided you couldn't wait to return and rode home early?" He shrugged.

"I suppose. It's very beautiful out at the Swoop, but I missed the library." Daine snorted, placing a fond hand on her husband's shoulder.

"Just like your father," she laughed as Numair's arm snaked around her. Rikash's face fell slightly.

It was a compliment of the highest kind, to be compared to his father. The great mage. The modest man escaped from the cruel emperor of Carthak because he refused to serve Ozorne. It was an honor to him. Making a wry face at his parents, he waved and began to make his exit for the second time. But- once again- he was foiled by another person standing in the doorway.

Irnai's eerie dark green eyes bore holes into him. Rikash instinctively took a step back; the last time he had really spoken to the woman was before she had predicted Deryne's death. Which was just nonsense, of course-

"Did you enjoy the Wavewalker's Feast?" Taken completely aback by the sudden question, Rikash was not able to answer. Unnerved by the steady gaze, he mumbled an unintelligible response under his breath. He nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to get out of her way as she swept into the room. His mother shot him a disapproving glare as she greeted the seer pleasantly.

"How are you, dear?"

"As well as one may be, Wildmage," Irnai replied in her gentle voice. Rikash groaned inwardly; she was in one of _those _moods. "I suppose the Walker has been forgotten here, then?" She turned back to Rikash, who nearly flinched. "Hmm. I see the wax and the wane; her pull on the moon, the heart- Even the Goddess bows to her sometimes…. See, she must. There is a balance, and the Gods are only the instruments of their Mother and Father, and of their Elder siblings." Rikash wondered how she was able to not blink for so long.

"The Wavewalker Feast is one of the old traditions, Irnai," Myles said in a voice he might use when speaking with a very young child. "Like the month of the Gods." Turning to Numair, he explained, "They said in the old days that the month before Midwinter- the month after the winter solstice, you might say- was the time in which Gods were born. After this period culminated with the Fire Festival of Yama, magic waned its power, and man regained control. But the Feast- a month after the summer solstice- marks the time of year that the power of the Gods begins to wax again." A month after the solstice… so several days ago, but Rikash could not say what day it had been. All the days had run past him in a pleasant haze, until he had mentioned the whirlwind to Merle…. Had it been that day? He could remember how the sun had beat down on his skin, making magic fizz inside him, begging for use…. But it did not matter, whatever Irnai was babbling about this time; seers might see the possible futures, but true mages changed their futures and protected themselves without ominous prophecies. "Folk appealed to the Wavewalker and the Goddess on this day to beg for their gentle presences to cool hot tempers and tongues, for as the magic grows again, so does the danger of power spiraling out of control-"

"And so I wish you a happy Feast, though it seems too late," the seer cut in again, scanning the room until her eyes rested on Rikash again, who felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. "And tell Deryne, will you?" Her emotionless, knowing face did not change as she turned away from him and twiddled her fingers at him. "Go on, boy-mage. Don't fear me; there is no reason to shy away from the truth, is there?"

Rikash fled his parents' curious stares and Irani's omniscient, impersonal gaze. That woman _was _crazy.

* * *

It was a few, sunny days later that Deryne bowed to the Lioness and her husband, thanking them for their hospitality. Then she had shaken hands with Brand and hugged Merle. When she got to Cyne, she raised an eyebrow.

"Your life will be dull without worrying over whether or not I'm about to release my Gift into the air," she said wryly. Cyne smiled faintly, her eyes sliding back over to her fellow Copper Islanders. Brand was in the middle of taunting Merle with a stolen handkerchief, waving up in the air out of her reach. Not playing into his hands and reaching for it, the redhead smacked her friend in the stomach and snatched the white cloth back as he doubled over, howling in pain.

"Somehow I doubt that," Cyne replied, trying not to smile at her friends' antics. Deryne shrugged.

"All right, then. Maybe not." She peered earnestly into her friend's eyes. "You remember what I said? About the Gift?" Knowing what she meant, Cyne shrugged, then nodded. "You'll write?"

"Of course," Cyne vowed as they hugged. Then Deryne left the Kyprian to say goodbye to her brother. Sighing, Deryne heaved herself up onto Zephyr and stroked his mane. Summer was almost over; it was almost time to begin her second year as a page of Tortall.

* * *

_AN: I know, shocking, isn't it? That's the end of YEAR ONE... duh-duh-dun! I think I may skip over years three and half of four, just because I do not foresee anything very important happening in that time period... But year two is still to come! Reviews, thoughts, please? I'd get on bended knee, 'cept there's no point if you guys can't see it...  
_


	20. Chapter 19: New Pages

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_I am not Tamora Pierce. She is amazing, and if I can ever rival her writing, in creativity, inspiration, and power, that will make me happy for the rest of my life. Probably._ ;p_  
_

* * *

_Hello- here is a 'they're back' chappie and I hope it isn't boring... some humor, I guess... hopefully funny... Thanks to everybody who's reading and those who reviewed- kudos to you all!- **abyssgirl**, **Shang Leopard**, **Eternityfalls**, **cahawk**, **xxTunstall Chickxx**, **Dreamwing**, and my beta and fan, **KyrieofAccender**. Keep adding in your comments! Since it was mentioned, I added in a Neal scene... it accounts for his conspicuous un-interferingness through Deryne's first year as a page. Here it is-_

* * *

_Chapter 19_

_New Pages_

_August 20, 477 H.E._

"Aloin!" Grinning, Deryne leaned over to embrace the boy, who glowered at her. "Leaving me with these savages while you gallivant off to the Swoop," he muttered. "I tell you, sometimes Ev is _too _jolly for my liking." Deryne giggled.

"That's possible?"

They had arrived back at the palace earlier that morning, and Deryne had sought out her friends the moment she was finished unpacking. There was a little more than a week before the summer break ended. The journey back to Corus was a roundabout way; since the Lioness had decided to accompany them _and _visit a few old acquaintances, the group stopped in Port Caynn for a couple of days and then lazily made its way towards the capital in the summer heat. It was not as exciting without the lively trio from the Islands, but she, Cadel, and Meq managed to entertain themselves contemplating what life in the palace would be like with the eager heir to the throne among the pages' ranks and without the tyrannical Kasem hovering over them.

"All I can say is I'm glad you're back," the blond retorted darkly. Grinning mischievously, his friend tussled his hair before dancing out of reach.

"Right back at you, Strawhead."

"Hey!" he squawked, glaring at her. "I'll let you get away with that one, since you just got back-"

"But I'll be on my best behavior, from here on in." Deryne put her hand over her heart. "Page's promise." Someone behind her snorted.

"Queenscove's cousin's worst is better than her best. That pledge will mean very little, Aloin." Eyes twinkling, Deryne spun around with the dry sort of smile that infuriated stiff, upper-lipped conservatives.

"Launfel, darling," she drawled, shifting so that she gave him her full attention. "So touched you would bother to remember that much about me." Laun had grown over the summer; he was surprisingly tall and more muscular than she remembered. But his dark eyes narrowed the same way they had last time she had seen him- a way that told her he did not know quite what to make of her and that he did not like it.

"Now, Deryne," another familiar voice scolded. "Don't tease Isanife so much. He might think you're sincere." Deryne laughed as Evrain popped up out of nowhere, with the young Leo at his side.

"Your Highness." She bowed neatly to the boy, who reddened. "Hello, Ev," she added, slinging an arm around the other boy's shoulder in a quick, half-hug. "Never fear. There's small chance of that happening." She gave Laun a huge wink. "Right?" He rolled his dark eyes.

"Don't get your hopes up waiting for me," he muttered. "Where's Cadel?"

"Still unpacking?" Deryne guessed. "But wait." She grabbed Laun by the arm before he could escape. "First, do any of you know where Rikash is?" Laun shook her hand off of him.

"No idea," he replied coldly before walking away. Rolling her eyes, Deryne turned to the rest of the group. Ev pursed his lips thoughtfully.

"Rikash? Not in- in awhile," he concluded, sounding surprised. "Why? Didn't he come in with you lot?"

"He had to come home early," Deryne answered, feeling testy. Aloin frowned.

"What's wrong? Is he all right? Are his-"

"Everything's fine," she said hastily, avoiding her friends' gazes by adjusting her belt. Sometimes- actually, most of the time- Aloin's curiosity was a pain. "No, he just felt the urge to leave-" She laughed; it sounded like a feeble attempt to her. "Guess he had too much sun, huh?"

"I saw him," Leo finally piped up. Startled, Deryne looked over at the prince. "In the library, like always."

"I didn't know you-" Deryne stopped, unsure of where she was going. A hint of a smile appeared on the boy's face.

"That I knew him that well?" he finished.

"I… suppose so," she answered slowly, still trying to figure the lad out. Cadel _had _told her that the heir was an odd one. From what she had heard, he was even more of a little pest than Aloin. But then he had that smile, the knowing type that adults wore when speaking with a child fumbling for words…. It made Deryne vaguely uncomfortable; he was too little to have such a stare.

"I don't and I do," he responded, still smiling. "Rikash doesn't like to talk when he's angry, does he?" Deryne's stomach sank.

"He didn't throw books at you, did he?" She ignored the looks on Ev's and Aloin's faces.

"No," Leo said plainly. "He seems like the type that might have, though. If he did not like me." Evrain raised an eyebrow.

"You two best mates then, eh?"

"Nope. Not yet. But he knows better than that." Deryne laughed.

"Does he?" she drawled, just managing to keep the bitter tone out of her voice.

"Yup," Leo replied, rocking back and forth on his heels. "But nobody doesn't like me." Aloin and Evrain both coughed loudly at the prince's words. Deryne shot them both dirty looks, then grinned at the black-haired boy. From any other boy, she would roll her eyes and knock his ego down a few pegs, but Leo stated his likableness in such a down-played, simple way that it made her chuckle.

"It would be impossible," she agreed, leaning up against the wall. "Cadel's happy to be back," she added. "I think he was looking forward to helping you with the glaive." Leo's dark eyes lit up, then he sobered.

"Do you think he'd be too tired this week to deal with me?" Deryne smiled and kicked Evrain to keep him from saying anything he thought would be funny.

"Maybe no sessions tonight, but definitely this week. I'll come and try it, too," she promised. Leo grinned brilliantly.

"I practiced with the wooden one he gave me before you lot left, but I don't think I'm doing it right." Deryne shrugged.

"I'd help today, but I never really used that blade," she admitted.

"I know you would," Leo answered in a matter-of-fact tone. "Thank you."

"I didn't do anything," Deryne replied wryly. "How did Cadel get stuck teaching you, anyhow?" Leo seemed not to realize she was teasing him. He sighed, looking regretful.

"I didn't mean to bother him or anything, but he was showing me some simple blocks when I met him in the courtyard and he offered to show me the glaives." He grinned. "Mama doesn't let me touch hers, so when Cadel actually let me _hold _one-"

"So Her Majesty is clever enough to evade a teaching job," Evrain quipped, leaning on Deryne. She stepped back and yanked his arm down towards the ground.

"Thought I told you I wasn't a tree," she drawled as he caught his balance. "Or a wall."

"The wall was not aforementioned," Evrain answered once he had mustered enough dignity to reply. "The tree… yes, I think I recall you mentioned that. Once. Or twice." Sighing, Deryne shook her head at him.

"It's good to be home," she muttered. "I think."

* * *

Yuki was pleased to see her daughter home again; dressed in the Yamani robes of her former country and life, the lovely woman served them both tea in the sitting room of the Chief Healer's chambers. Yuki had always supported her daughter's choice to be a warrior; she had been the extra conspirator Deryne and Kel had needed to needle her husband into agreeing to it. Despite her formal, strict upbringing, she was more friendly and less reserved than most Yamani nobility.

"Do you want any gowns, for meals?" she queried. Deryne snorted.

"No thanks," she answered. "I don't think I could bear to wear them again now." Yuki's dark eyes twinkled.

"Did you speak with Lady Alanna ever at the Swoop?" Deryne frowned, leaning back in the soft cushions she rested in as she brought her cup to her lips.

"Not a whole lot," she admitted, taking a sip of the sweetened drink. "We spent most of our time on the beach. Us young ones, I mean. We even got Ri in the ocean," she bragged, though her heart was not as into it as it should have been. Her mother's eyes danced.

"Coercion? Or full out assault?" she asked politely. Deryne grinned.

"The lure of dunking me," she admitted, laughing along with her mother. Deryne was willing to bet that Yuki would have had a very loud, sweet laugh if she had not been raised by a people who disapproved of emotion. As it was, the gentle music of her laughter reminded her daughter of the gentle waves that lapped up onto the shore.

"Did-" At that moment, the door burst open. Both Queenscove women rose as Neal strode in, sputtering. He stopped when he caught sight of Deryne, then glared, his hands akimbo. Deryne had to restrain from raising an inquiring but impudent eyebrow.

"Hi," she said lamely as her father continued to glare. Assuming a polite, puzzled expression, she waited pointedly. Sooner or later, her father would elaborate. She was not disappointed.

"My own daughter can't bother to tell me she's back from the den of the Lioness?" he demanded once he recovered from incoherent sputters. "I hear from _Dom _that _his _son is back and have I seen my offspring? Obviously she can't be bothered to greet her father-"

"She came to me," Yuki interjected. "We figured that you would eventually find out and come to complain to me." Deryne could not hold back a giggle as Neal looked at his wife, clearly insulted. Yuki met his accusatory gaze calmly, though her daughter suspected she was laughing behind the solemn mask. After a moment, Neal groaned, rubbing his face with a hand. Then he patted Deryne on the shoulder and dramatically plopped down next to his wife, wrapping an arm her.

"Women," he muttered darkly, as though that one word spoke volumes.

"You are very good about not interfering during the year," Deryne retorted lightly, studying her nails. She was startled when her mother laughed again and her father glowered.

"That was because your aunt Kel threatened to drag him off to tilt each time he spoke to haMinch," Yuki told her, eyes gleaming. A wide grin crossed Deryne's face as she looked at Neal.

"Well," she said with wide-eyed innocence. "That explains a lot." Neal glared.

"It was a low blow," he said darkly. "That is not a threat that Kel should use lightly."

"It is a very serious deal," Yuki chided her husband gently. "Deryne needs to prove that she can handle herself. You would only barge in to tell haMinch what you thought of him for making Deryne run an extra lap for something trivial, and then where would she be?" Neal picked up his wife's cup of tea and mumbled something into it before sipping from it. Deryne hid a smile. Her father often reminded her of a scolded child when her mother or Aunt Kel brought up a very good point. "Deryne is careful."

"But when a seer-" Yuki slapped him on the arm, but Deryne grimaced. After the prophecy, she had thought nothing less than physical restraint had kept her father from following her around like a guard dog.

"I wouldn't worry too much," Deryne said glibly. "You have too much to worry about in the first place." Yuki smiled ruefully, patting Neal's arm.

"Speaking of which, how is that chamberlain?" she asked. Deryne raised an eyebrow in question.

"One of the men in the infirmary has a fever," her father elaborated. He shrugged. "It's taken hold of him, but it's only sickness. He's sweating it out now, and with my Gift helping him, he's on the mend. But it _is _draining," he admitted. "Just don't skin your leg again, dear," he said to Deryne. "I'd have to let one of my assistants heal you, and I'm not sure that they've mastered the technique for shallow, long cuts. There's so much more training for gouges and breaks than skinning, I should talk to one of the instructors at the university about- mmh!" Yuki stuffed a cake in his mouth to quiet his troubled rant, and Deryne ducked her head to hide a smile.

She hoped she would see her Aunt Kel soon. She have to thank the lady knight for saving her from the undoubtedly humiliating effects of her father's paranoia.

* * *

Rikash swallowed heavily, his eyes fixed on the desk as Numair Salmalin eyed him closely.

"It would be good for you," the man agreed slowly, his dark eyes narrowed. "But you just thought to leave your family and friends to study?"

"I figure it might be good to learn from someone without any emotional attachment," the boy answered, fingers linked behind his back. "The City of the Gods seems as good a place as any to go." Numair sighed, tapping his fingers against the book in his hands.

"The City is very far." _Very _far. Rikash felt better just thinking about it, but he only nodded to his father. "Not even the University?" Numair's voice grew softer. Rikash frowned, then glanced up.

"University?" Of course. The University was built by King Jonathan for mages, right there in Corus. "Don't you lecture there?"

"Sometimes." Numair's eyes twinkled. "I could pretend not to know you. You could have an alias and everything."

"Harailt's there." Numair's face fell slightly at Rikash's words. Then he cleared his throat. "Always knew it would come about, sooner or later. You're more independent than Sarra. Can I ask you to stick with me and your mother for another year? I promise that I will look into the City and the University. Neither likes accepting young people younger than fifteen, anyway."

_No, _Rikash wanted to say. That was the _point_; to be gone, gone by Midwinter-

"Fine," he answered before pulling the book in his father's hands away for inspection. "What's this?"

* * *

There was a loud bang at the door. Duskwing crooned lowly, and Deryne muttered a groggy curse to herself. She had forgotten about her customary wake-up call at the palace; suddenly, the Swoop was even more appealing than it had ever been.

_Get up, _the Chamber sniped. Deryne replied with a less than polite remark. The Chamber was not amused or impressed. _Lazy girl. How did you expect to become a lady knight, again? _

"My knight master will be a late sleeper," she mumbled as she rose to yank on a robe. When she answered the door, Laun, Aloin, and Evrain were waiting there, staring up at the ceiling impatiently. Deryne could not imagine what had possessed her friends to drag Laun around, but she was not one to start something, not when she had just woke up. Instead, she leaned up against the doorway as the three boys looked at her. Mouth open to relate the latest news, Aloin stopped in mid-sound. He blushed, and Evrain choked. Deryne raised an eyebrow as Laun's eyes widened marginally before falling to the floor. "What?" All three were now staring at their feet. "What?" She was in no mood for games.

"Umm…." Wordlessly, Aloin gestured to his own torso. Crossly, Deryne glared back at him. He obviously had some reason he wanted to wake her up, and if it had been because they needed another page to play charades, she would box their ears out. "When… did that happen?" As comprehension struck her like a bolt of lightening- a more effective wake-up than a dunk in cold water- Deryne looked down. She had not bothered wrapping her robe around her securely, leaving her skin exposed. Her breasts were hardly noticeable, but when she had slept in a breastband and breeches, it showed a great deal more than her baggy page clothes. As an answer, the page girl slammed the door in her friends' faces and crossed the room towards her trunk of clothes. Duskwing emitted an odd sort of noise that sounded like half a croak, half a laugh. Face hot, Deryne shot a hard glare at the kestrel before pulling on a shirt. Trust the Chamber to show up just in time to witness something like that…. How could she have not noticed and wrapped that robe around her body more before she had answered the door?

"You dainty boys all right, now?" she demanded as she whipped the door open again. "Haven't been scarred for life yet, or is it too late?" Without waiting for them to reply, she strode down the hall.

"So little modesty?" her sharp ears heard. Before she could whip around on Laun with a charming smile and a stinging retort, however, Deryne heard Aloin.

"Why be so nasty?" his shrill voice demanded his former mentor. "You should go on and sit with the conservatives' boys, the way you carry on!" She spun around to see the blond boy glowering up at the muscular, older page. "What makes you think you have to sit with us, huh? A body would think it would sully your hands to hang around the son of a lady knight and a girl page's friends!" Laun's gray eyes simmered; his mouth twisted.

"Merely marveling," he replied in an icy tone that made Evrain stare him down. The two boys locked eyes for a long moment, but it was Laun- with his composure and steady gaze- who looked away first.

"So sorry if your young eyes have never seen flesh before, Launfel," Deryne cut in, rolling her eyes as she pushed back her embarrassment. There was no reason to encourage a fight. Better to cut it off quickly. "My apologies if the shock was too much for your delicate nerves." Evrain snickered, then he and Aloin each threw an arm around Deryne's shoulders and left Laun in the hall. Somewhere deep inside, Deryne felt a twinge of guilt for leaving the boy, but he had asked for it. Literally.

"Thanks," she said to Aloin softly, tapping his shoulder with her head; it wasn't as far a journey as it had been before the summer. The boy was growing; he might even be taller by next summer. "I think I can say that you wouldn't have done that a year ago."

"Year ago you weren't one of my mates," the boy mumbled, coloring again. "Besides, he isn't like that all the time. It's a bit annoying, that he acts like that when you're around." Deryne snorted.

"I'm sure most conservatives are very pleasant people," she pointed out dryly. "But that doesn't mean they don't look their noses down at all us humble folk who dare to be different."

"Anyhow, we were on our way down to see if we can catch sight of the newest pages that have come in trailing behind their das," Evrain explained. "One Bazhir, one lad from one of the south coast fiefs."

"They look afraid," Aloin commented. "And the other few that have trickled in from the north act like they'll do anything to stay out of our way. Not an impressive lot for Leo to mingle with." Deryne shrugged, tugging both boys' arms off her.

"He'll do fine."

"Besides," Evrain added, grinning. "Maybe the appearances are deceiving. _You_ looked like you might wet yourself that first day, Strawhead." Aloin punched him in the arm. Deryne sighed.

"If they're that skittish, give them until the lineup to toughen up," she advised ruefully, referring to when the older pages volunteered as sponsors. "Don't go scaring them off before they even start."

* * *

Since the heir to the throne was among the pages, the introduction of the first year pages was formal. They lined up against the wall, with haMinch between them and the other pages, as though he fended the older ones from the beginners.

When Evrain and Deryne arrived in the hall, Leo grinned and waved energetically, behind the training master's back. The girl could not resist a chuckle and small wink at him. Serious as ever when beneath the stern gaze of haMinch, Evrain merely nodded before haMinch cleared his throat.

"Under the foot of the Owl Eyed One once again," Deryne muttered, and Evrain kicked her, though a smirk crept across his face.

"Each of the new boys this year will need a sponsor," haMinch said in his training yard voice, the one every page learned to snap to attention at. "I expect the older pages to know their duty, and I do not think I should be forced to pick from unwilling young men." Deryne coughed quietly at that, and the man's eyes swept over her for a moment before returning to the first page in line. "Morag of Finch?" The wide-eyed boy stepped forwards. One of Cadel's year mates quickly called him over; Deryne had only ever known him by his fief name. "Blaise of Glassbour?" Evrain volunteered cheerily after a moment. "Hahmei ibn Fescha?" As the Bazhir boy was taken under the wing of Vishar, one of Deryne's year mates, the girl scanned the crowd for Cadel. She frowned.

"Where's-"

"Stomach ache," Aloin answered. "Your da's keeping him for the day." Deryne winced in sympathy, then looked over at Leo, who had a faint frown on his face. He seemed to be looking, too-

"Aren't you going to sponsor a body?" she asked him. The boy shrugged.

"I don't think I have enough credit to me yet. Plus, hanging out with you lot means I get the Owl Eye glare all the time. I don't think I'd want to condemn some poor boy to that by asking to sponsor."

"Nonsense." Deryne poked him in the side as the next two boys made their way to their new mentors. Only the prince remained on the wall. "Go-"

Leo watched coolly as several pages volunteered, but his face fell slightly. HaMinch seemed to want him to choose; he waited with only a slowly tapping foot to reveal his impatience.

Then the prince looked up at the training master and bowed, the corners of his lips twitching, but the rest of his face was as wide and sweet as an infant's. Deryne looked at him, puzzled.

"My lord," Leo said in a clear voice, one that sounded as if he was smiling inside. "I wonder if I ask too much of a fellow page to request a sponsorship." HaMinch's brown eyes narrowed, but he nodded.

"Of course," he answered. "As Your Highness wishes, if the boy agrees." Smiling, the prince continued in his mild voice.

"I would like Deryne to sponsor me."

* * *

Next chapter- Hornets' Nest! Guess why? Literal, metaphorical-

Reviews? Thoughts? Apologies for the boring chapter, but I need to get into gear for the next one, I think. It's going to be a little bit of a time skip... I think. If you have any ideas for wild escapades Deryne and her mates could get into, feel free to mention them! I can't promise I'll use them, but multiple heads are better than one! ;p


	21. Chapter 20: Hornets' Nest

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_AN: Hello all. Long chappie- now I gotta go and do all that homework stuff. Thanks to all reviewers- **Shang Leopard**, **KyrieofAccender**, **SarahE7191**, **cahawk**, **Dreamwings**, and **Heiress of Lohaust**! My apologies in advance if there are typos- I need to go- shocking that I managed the chappie! Hope you like it!  
_

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_Chapter 20_

_Hornets' Nest_

Deryne fought a fierce battle to keep the smirk off her lips as haMinch blanched, grimaced, then attempted to compose his face with little success. His brown eyes- even larger than usual- stared back down at the calm Leo, who seemed unaware of the hornets' nest he had just plunged into headlong. Evrain burst into a loud coughing fit as the heir to the throne blinked once, his dark eyes gazing back up at the training master.

"After all," he continued reasonably. "She and her cousin are my friends. Cadel teaches me the Yamani glaive-" HaMinch's face was changing fast from a drawn pale to a dangerous, warning red. Deryne remembered then that the only people conservatives hated more than feminists were foreigners. The heir using weapons of female foreigners would be less than comforting for the staunch conformist.

"You- want a- Broakhale teaches-" He stuttered over his words, as though unsure what to address first and uncertain as to whether or not he wanted to clue the royal boy in to his thoughts.

Before haMinch's eyes could pop out of his head, Deryne stepped forward and bowed.

"It would be my honor, Your Highness," she said loudly, vowing to cuff the young boy over the head for his indiscretion the first chance she got.

* * *

"He looks at you, mops his brow, and starts mouthing prayers to Mithros," Evrain commented, slapping Leo on the back. Deryne shot them both a dark glare.

"He's not the only one," she said pointedly. Aloin grinned.

"You aren't saying that Leo makes you worry, too, are you?" Deryne chucked a piece of bread at him; he caught it in the crook of his arm, then sampled it.

"I wouldn't be surprised if I found a gray hair somewhere in this," she muttered to herself, curling a lock of hair around her fingertips.

Leoraed of Conte was more trouble than he was worth, the runt. Two weeks after the beginning of training, he was just as curious and dabbled in "experiments" just as much as he had the first day. The day before, when the first years had picked out their mounts, he chose the most finicky, easily excited young mare of the lot. Ora was surprisingly large, too, for a horse of her age and sex. Then, while all the other pages were happy trotting their choices around the field, _he _had to try a gallop. When it was clear that the beautiful, golden horse would _not _stop, haMinch had left them with Ezeko to chase after the pair. Leo came back halfway through lunch with a stern lecture ringing in his ears and punishment duties for _two months. _Still, his eyes had been all aglow as he described the rush of the ride. Deryne- who had rushed over to him in a panic- rolled her eyes and whacked him on the shoulder. Hopefully Leo would grow out of his suicidal habits; it was _not _a good trait for the future king to retain. Now, the boy looked up with his wide eyes looking mildly puzzled.

"I'd say you don't have to worry about that for at least a couple more years," he said seriously to her. Aloin coughed loudly.

"You wanna bet?"

* * *

"Queenscove!" Deryne cringed inwardly as another arrow flew, straight and true, into the oak tree. It was a straight, neat shot that had enough power to embed the arrowhead into the trunk.

Too bad she had been aiming at the target, several feet to the left and a good deal closer. She faced the scowling training master with a bow.

"Yes, my lord?" she asked in a clear, loud voice. Cadel- back from his uncle's questions and potions- made a sympathetic face, but the girl page reserved all her attention for haMinch.

"I swear by all I hold dear, Queenscove," the man snapped, eyes determined. "I will throw you _out _if you continue to show the prowess of an infant at the bow!" Laun smirked; Deryne felt her cheeks grow hot. He _was _right; that was the worst part of it. No page should be as dismal as she was with a bow and arrows! How could she be a knight, when she never managed to hit the target?

Leo patted her on the back as they went in for lunch. Cadel, Evrain, and Aloin were not far behind.

"Could you just ask the wind to send it-"

"No!" Deryne snapped, cutting off her cousin's words. "That's cheating! I need to learn properly," she said, glaring off into the distance. "Focus, and extra practice, that's all I need-"

"I just hope your aim with a lance isn't just as bad," Evrain said gloomily. Sometime soon, second year pages would begin jousting with the older pages. HaMinch had decided that first year pages should built up their muscles before he had them hefting huge, wooden poles. Deryne punched him in the arm, but her heart was not in it. Not able to shoot or joust? What kind of knight _would _choose her as his squire, even if haMinch did not toss her out? Kel had showed her some tricks with the lance, but she had also not been so terrible at archery back before she had become a page. Or maybe she had just thought she was better than she had been.

"Well, you're good with a blade, and lances are more like long blades than arrows," Cadel reasoned. "As long as you're strong enough- which you are," he added hastily. Deryne smiled at him.

"Thanks."

* * *

It was a wet, cold morning. Zephyr was not fond of the rain, and he did not hesitate to make his displeasure known. He snorted and danced about; no soothing words or threat would make him calm down. Deryne had to let him trot in circles while the rest of the pages waited on their horses quietly for the training master to begin.

"Queenscove, you can get off that fussy princeling and get a new mount, or go inside with him and wait until the weather suits you both better," haMinch called out through the damp. Swearing to herself, Deryne dismounted and headed inside, dragging the fiend in with her. Leo may have unleashed the hornets' nest, but it was _she _who getting stung! She glanced around for a moment, biting her lip. Stefan the groom did not answer her summons.

She did not know which mount she was _allowed _to take! And if she did not return soon- She heard someone jogging towards the stable, and she turned around just in time to see a wet Laun come in. He pointed to a stall three doors away from where Deryne stood.

"That one," he said abruptly. "Hurry up." Was he trying to get her in trouble? Was the horse feisty? Did it belong to an important nobleman? He scowled. "I'm not ever gonna be this generous again, so you'd better get a move on."

"Generous?" Laun rolled his eyes.

"She belongs to me, all right? Cadel knew about her and told me that I'd better go and help you out. My father gave her to me last year, so I have my own horse and a palace horse. Cadel made sure he said it where Ezeko could hear, and then the sergeant sent me off, jabbering on about duty." Deryne's lips twitched.

"You and Cadel really are friends, aren't you? I don't get it."

"I don't like _you_," Laun explained sharply. "Not that I have much against you in the first place. But it's more than obvious that girls trying out for knighthood cause problems, and we're better off without you lot."

"Maybe _your_ lot ought to stop starting the problems, then," she muttered, unbolting the stall and stepping inside. Inside was a pretty, lithe sorrel who nickered when she saw Deryne.

"She isn't fussy," Laun said gruffly, yanking the tack off the wall. Deryne tossed the saddle on the mare. "Name's Fate."

"I'm going to tie that beast outside," Deryne vowed darkly as she thought of her own horse, her fingers fixing the cinches. "-in the middle of a rainstorm. Maybe then he won't be so skittish about a little water." She looked up to see Laun smiling. He stopped when she caught his gaze.

"Make sure she's warm and clean before you put her back in here," he warned. "Or so help me, Mithros, I'll tell haMinch you make faces behind his back." Deryne grinned.

"You aren't a bad sort, Laun," she said bluntly, laughing to herself when he looked up, affronted. "Get used to me being here. I'm not leaving."

* * *

The lance was lighter than she would have thought it to be. Ezeko told Laun to explain the drill to Deryne when they returned to the practice field.

"My aunt had explained it to me," she said hastily as they looked down at the five quintains set up. Laun rolled his eyes.

"Humor me," he said. "I'm humoring you; it seems unfair that such effort shouldn't be rewarded." Deryne smirked.

"Laun, your humor is wasted as a conservative." He glared at her.

"I never said I was one-" She snorted.

"On with the lecture." Laun's eyes remained narrowed, but he began his explanation.

"Five lines, second years in the first one." He pointed to where her year mates were already lining up to begin. Deryne watched as Aloin urged his mount forward. She watched as he fumbled with the lance, barely skimming the side of the shield. The sandbag smacked his side hard. She winced. "He missed; you need to hit the target on the shield-" The red circle in its center. "-or you get whacked. See how I hold the lance-" Deryne looked at how he rested it across his horse's withers; she looked down at her own positioning, and smiled slightly. "Keep the point level and let the lance slide back in your hands when it hits. _If _it hits. And turn _away _when you're done." Deryne nodded, unable to keep her face smooth. Instead she allowed herself a small, polite smile.

"Fate is trained like the palace horses?" she asked. "The charge command is the same?" Laun frowned, swinging his head around.

"You don't want to charge at that thing, D-"

"Are you finished yet, Isanife?" Ezeko bellowed. Both pages leapt in the saddle. "Queenscove, go!" She looked back at Laun one more time.

"Don't charge," he hissed. She watched him coolly, then raised an eyebrow.

"Care for my well-being, is it? My thanks, but are the commands the same?"

"Isanife! Get your butt over here!" Ezeko roared. "Let's go, Queenscove! Sometime today." Deryne glared at Laun, who nodded.

"Same." She swore she heard as she turned Fate around, "Idiot." Grin broadening, she trotted the sorrel up to the chalk line. HaMinch checked her postioning, frowning when he found nothing to correct.

"Free to go whenever you decide, girl," he said, stepping back. Deryne looked down the field at the quintain, then patted Fate's neck. Then she kicked the mare into a gallop.

The wind whooshed past her as she raced towards the target, leveling the lance carefully.

"Don't tense up," Kel had told her many times. "It's easier to slip, easier to get hurt-"

But it was hard to stay calm as the target grew closer, and closer-

She saw her lance hit the very edge of the circle before it slipped. Eyes wide, she watched as the wood shattered, exploding into her face. Then everything went black.

* * *

Deryne's eyes flickered open to see her aunt Kel. Frowning, she tried to sit up, but Kel pushed her back down and put a finger to her lips. Puzzled, Deryne looked around, but her blanket was tossed back over her. A door opened.

"Neal, stop fretting," her aunt ordered. "I'll tell you when she's awake. Why wouldn't I?" Deryne's father muttered something she could not make out. "Go on, Meathead." A moment later, Kel hauled the cover off Deryne and smiled. "I figured you might want to catch your breath before your da descends like a mother hen." Sitting up, the girl flinched; a sharp pain lanced through her head. "You hit your head pretty hard, youngling." Deryne frowned, putting a hand up to her head. There was a large bump on the side of her head that she did not remember being there before. "Your father decided to leave that bruise there as a reminder not to get into any more accidents for the rest of the week; he's busy enough as it is with one of those colds going around the servants."

"I- What did I-" Her aunt frowned.

"It was odd," the woman replied thoughtfully. "Me and Sir Clement were coming to see you lot, and we got there just in time to see you go." Deryne winced; it was one thing to knock herself out in front of haMinch and the pages, and another to do so in front of her aunt, her first teacher. "The lance just exploded. I don't think _you _did anything wrong. Even as it burst, you did everything you could have. You pulled away fast, covered your face, but it was just too late-" Deryne nodded silently, then frowned as the lady knight's words echoed through her mind.

"Sir Clement?" she asked. "Of Brockmire?" Kel smiled.

"That's right. His squire is your friend, if I remember correctly?"

"Inar's here?" The woman nodded.

"Sir Clement and I had to come back to help the Own with some things." She grinned. "Raoul can't seem to get on without my help." Deryne smiled back. The Own Commander was Cadel's godfather; he had been Kel's knight master. Then her face fell. "What's wrong, Deryne?" The page sighed, pulling up her knees so she could prop her chin on them.

"Knight master," she muttered, unable to look at Kel. "Who would choose me as his squire?" Kel hesitated. "I know _you _can't pick me, 'cause people would call it favoritism, since we're related and you're a lady knight-"

"I thought the same thing," the woman admitted with a sigh. "But look how lucky I got!" She smiled at her niece, but Deryne still shook her head.

"I mean, there's all your old friends from your page years, but-" She took a deep breath, then plunged on, "I mean, wouldn't people say you called in a favor for me, if one of your friends-" Kel's lips twitched.

"I don't think you have to worry," she said carefully. _Too _carefully. Deryne looked up at her aunt suspiciously. When Kel met her gaze, the glint in her hazel eyes gave her away.

"You already know someone!" Deryne accused in a wave of relief and surprise. Kel shrugged.

"There are several people who might ask. But don't worry about that." She ruffled Deryne's hair. "Worry about becoming a squire first, will you?" The girl smiled.

"I will." She lay back on the cot, propping herself up on her elbows. "How exciting were your page years, anyway? Did you have half this much trouble?" Kel's lips twitched.

"I got into fights almost every other night, if that's what you mean."

"Really?" Kel chuckled softly.

"And Wyldon- he was the training master then- was determined that I would not get through my page years. Always challenging me, making me work harder than any of the boys-" She paused, clearing her throat. "It's a good thing he did. I wouldn't be half the knight I am today if he hadn't."

"Adversity builds strength?"

"It builds dogged determination not to fail, for one thing," Kel said, grinning.

"And your squire years?"

"Worse," her aunt replied, her face smooth. Even though she had not a drop of Islander blood in her, she had spent several years there and was as adept with Yamani mannerisms as Deryne's mother. "Mud, dirty jobs with the Own- building houses, burning out nests of spidrens-" Her eyes glittered. "And, best of all, tilting with Lord Raoul." Deryne's eyes widened. No wonder her aunt was so good at jousting! Lord Raoul was _huge_. More often than not, when Deryne saw the man joust, his opponent would have to be carried off the field. "But it kept me alive during the Scanran War," she added quietly.

"Must've been too tough to die by then," Deryne said, laughing. Kel shrugged, wrapped up in her memories.

"It was hard enough, protecting refugees, fighting the Nothing Man and-" Deryne's eyes narrowed, but she forced herself to speak casually.

"Nothing Man? Have you ever mentioned him to me before?" she asked, trying not to look like she was staring too hard at her aunt. Kel's smile was bitter and rueful.

"Many times," she answered. "I haven't called him that in years, though." Deryne's pulse quickened.

"Who?" The lady knight's eyebrow rose at Deryne's eagerness. "Wondering," the page added hastily, kicking herself mentally.

"Blayce the Gallan," Kel said, watching Deryne closely. But the girl did not care; it was so obvious! The man in that dream, the man in the library, looking up Thom of Trebond- He was Blayce! Everything the Chamber had said about him suddenly made sense!

What had he found? The diaries that Alanna had locked up in Pirate's Swoop, or something else? And where had he been in that dream? And why had he been looking for whatever it was?

"Deryne…." She was pulled back to the present by Kel, who had a faint frown on her face. "Is-"

Both turned as the door opened again; Neal strode in, glaring at his friend.

"I knew it!" he exclaimed. "I knew you wouldn't tell me!"

"And why might I want to do that?" Kel asked dryly, quiet enough that the healer might not have heard. Ignoring her, Neal pointed an accusatory finger at the pair of them.

"Scheming how to leave without seeing me, were you? How did you do this to yourself, Deryne? Run into someone swinging a staff? Or did you just hit yourself over the head with one of _her_-" He jerked his head at Kel. "-weighted lances, eh?"

"Leaving now _would _be a good plan," Deryne muttered to her aunt, who just nudged her to be quiet. But at the same time, she subtly gestured that Deryne swing her legs to the floor. Cautiously, the girl obeyed and stood, expecting her head to spin. She was fine.

"Neal, you heard the story from me, haMinch, and Cadel," Kel said in a reasonable voice. "And she's had enough for today. Surely you wouldn't want to trouble the invalid?" Neal glared.

"She's fine! Look, she can stand!"

"Well, then, there you go! From the chief healer's lips! She's fine and doesn't need any more help," Kel concluded. "Go back to that ill chamberlain; he looked ready to upchuck his dinner-" She poked Deryne again, then tilted her head in the direction of the door on the other side of the infirmary. Deryne slid behind her aunt towards it. Neal glowered.

"I want to know why she-"

"It's called page training, Meathead-" As her father's gaze alighted on Deryne, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. At the same moment, Kel snatched the cover off of the bed and tossed it at him. Deryne snickered; it seemed that her husband's playfulness _had _made an impression on the usually stoic lady knight.

"Go, Deryne!" she called loudly, a laugh in her voice. Grinning, Deryne waited a moment, watching as her father squawked and waved his arms around. As he spun around, the man tripped over his own feet and fell into the hospital rag box with a yelp. Then, giggling as her aunt winked, she made good her escape.

* * *

Inar's face was impassive as Rikash revealed the entire story, only frowning once when the apprentice mage explained the fight. Once Rikash had found out his friend was back, it had taken a few minutes for him to track down the squire. Both had gone to the library and, once they were there, Rikash revealed everything except for the _thing _in the whirlwind. Even if he wanted to reveal that, he did not think he could begin to explain the sensation.

"Can I see the piece of glass?" Rikash glared at him.

"This isn't about the glass!" he hissed. "It's about the fight! My magic-"

"But it started with the whirlwind," Inar said in a calm voice with a hint of steel behind it. "Where is it?" The other boy shrugged.

"My room," he grunted. "You can have it. I'll get it later."

"All right." Inar cleared his throat. "I suppose it's a cycle. That much is obvious." Rikash frowned.

"What?" Inar leaned back on the bookcase he stood against.

"Wax and wane. Rise and fall. Wild and tame. And you have had two explosions, in that case. The day before Midwinter and the other day."

"I had control after Midwinter," Rikash added thoughtfully, seeing where Inar was headed. "And I lost it at the Swoop." His amber eyes narrowed. "But that's what I'm saying! If I do the same thing I did at the Fire Festival-" Inar frowned.

"What did you call it?" he asked sharply. Rikash paused, then repeated the words.

"Why? What is it?" Why was Inar acting like this? Rikash rubbed his head, irritated. Trying to figure this out was like having someone was running through his head with a filgree comb, and all Inar could do was frown and demand answers? Just talking about it made Rikash's head ache.

"I dunno." He seemed truly puzzled. "I thought I-" He scowled. "I remembered something, or-" He shook his head, then sighed. "Any binding spell will help you. Ask your father." Rikash rolled his eyes.

"He'll want to know why."

"And you don't want to tell him?" Inar's blue eyes studied him shrewdly for a moment. Then he smiled sympathetically. "If you really want, I can _try_, but your Gift is probably too strong for mine to contain it completely."

"Good," Rikash said, relieved. "I don't want to be cut off from it altogether. Just a little control-" He hesitated. "What do you need?" Inar shrugged.

"It isn't that hard. Just a circle of power, incantations- I won't even attach the spell to me. I'll connect it to the desert, or something. Some place where your powers can siphon off extra power without causing trouble."

* * *

"Chamber!" Deryne barked. The kestrel looked up and glowed blue in her magical sight.

_Yes? _It was irritated. All the same, Deryne walked over and scowled.

"You couldn't have just told me? What are you getting at? Blayce- where was he in that dream, that he had something of Thom's?" Duskwing preened himself.

_Because telling you would take all the fun out of it. You better hurry up, or you'll miss supper. _Muttering something about insolent pigeons, she changed quickly, yanking a tunic over her head before leaving again.

* * *

Inar was polite when he saw her after supper; he bowed neatly. Deryne snorted.

"Good lords, Inar. You leave for a few months and come back a fop with pretty manners?" She knew it was not the case; the squire had a faint scar on his left cheek and the unpolished look of someone who had been tramping through the wilderness for awhile. Inar smiled, picturing his escapades in the last few weeks.

"I see you're quite happy and healthy. A few exciting guests and a little sun, I hear." He noted how her grin faltered. "A little too much?" She raised an eyebrow, but did not say anything. She was daring him to elaborate. He was not one to back down from a challenge. "I was talking to Rikash-"

"You found him?" the girl demanded sharply, eyes glinting. For a moment, Inar had an image of her as a warrior on the battlefield. Her brilliant, gray-blue eyes were enough to cow a fighter.

"He found me," Inar admitted, watching as her fists clenched.

"So he seeks _you _out himself, even?" she snapped. "What's he said about me? How I can't control my Gift? Well, he-"

"He's sorry," the squire cut in quickly. "Really, really sorry. But he doesn't want it to happen again," he added, improvising. Although Rikash had not broached _that _subject, Inar could guess what his thoughts on it were. "So he doesn't want to see you. Or talk." Deryne did not look appeased.

"What did he say?"

"Just that he's out of control. Nothing about you." That was not exactly true. The apprentice had actually used some choice words when describing how Deryne's Gift had gnawed at his mind, but he was more upset than angry at his friend. Inar figured it was a safe, white lie. "But we think he should be good soon." He made a rueful face. "But I don't know if he'll just run to go find you." Deryne sighed wearily. Then she gestured that Inar should follow her.

"I doubt it." They walked through the corridors slowly. "I don't think I-" She stopped, then started again, "I mean, he probably- we-" Alarmed, Inar glanced at her as she choked on her words. Seeing the look on his face, Deryne cleared her throat and strolled on. "We probably won't ever be good friends- even friends, maybe- again." Inar struggled for words. Words that did not agree with hers.

"It'll be awkward at first," he agreed, carefully choosing his words. "But I can't see you both ignoring the other for the rest of your lives. It might take time and effort, but-" He shrugged. "I suppose it comes down to how bad you want it." Then he changed the subject. "I saw your fall today. It looked like it hurt." Deryne grimaced, hand reaching up to touch the large bruise on her forehead.

"It did," she agreed matter-of-factly. "You came with Aunt Kel and Sir Clement to watch."

"That I did." He smiled. "Everyone panicked, except for a few pages and haMinch. They almost looked hopeful." Deryne burst into laughter.

"Hoping that would be one accident too many?"

"You strike me as the resilient type," Inar remarked dryly. "Whenever I see you, you're always managing to hurt yourself _somehow. _I shudder to think how many times you get dragged into the infirmary a week." Deryne laughed again. "I'm also surprised that your father's hair isn't all gray yet." She wiped away tears of mirth from her eyes.

"He might have dyed it. He _would _do that." They walked on a little more in silence. "So you're going to help the Own now?"

"With your aunt, yes." He cleared his throat. "I've seen a lot. Sir Clement and I rode all the way down the southern coast and back." Deryne's eyebrows rose.

"In only a few months' time?" she exclaimed.

"We rode hard; he meant to stay down there for a time, but then- at an outpost- the mage there said we were needed back in Corus. We arrived the same time as Lady Keladry." Deryne nodded.

"That's odd," she said, thinking. "Why search for Sir Clement of all men- no offense, Inar- to summon him all the way from the south?" The squire shrugged. It _had _struck him as odd at the time, but he had also been glad. Corus was his home, as more than anywhere else-

"Maybe he was the only radical available," he answered wryly. "Not just any knight would work with the Knight Commander and the Lady Knight." Deryne snorted.

"You have a point. Do you know what you will be doing?"

"Exterminating spidrens, no doubt." He grimaced. "Nasty beasts."

"Well, I am glad to see you," Deryne said. "Especially since Ri-" Her lips pressed together tightly. "How long are you going to be here?"

"Not sure," he admitted. There was a ghost of a smile on her lips as she tucked a stray lock of her dark hair behind her ear.

"Long enough for a few duels? Make sure you challenge Cadel and knock him on his butt, though; he's gotten cocky lately 'cause none of us can beat him."

"I'll do my best."

* * *

It was Sunday, their day off. But Deryne and her friends were all in the training yard, practicing. Deryne had a stack of arrows; Leo and Blais of Glassbour, the first year page Evrain was sponsoring, stood next to her, waiting to retrieve the stray arrows once she was finished with her current stack. Evrain and Cadel had bullied Laun into coming; while Cadel and Aloin watched Inar demonstrate several new tricks his knight master had taught him, he and Evrain watched Deryne's positioning.

"Feet closer together," Laun said, bored. Deryne moved them. "Not that close." He ran a hand through his dark curls and gazed up into a nearby tree; for the past few weeks, the pages had steered clear of it, because of the hundreds of wasps flying around it. No one had bothered to get rid of the hive yet, and it was growing.

"Aren't you pleasant?" Deyrne muttered under her breath.

"Be nice," Evrain advised. "I couldn't tell you what you're doing wrong in a thousand years. That's why we got _him_."

"Nice to be wanted," Laun retorted acidly. Evrain patted him on the back jovially.

"We all know you're probably the most observant of the lot of us, when it comes to this sort of thing." Deryne pulled back the string carefully, gazing down at the target.

"Keep both eyes open." Annoyed, Deryne turned to glare at the boy standing behind her.

"They were!" she said indignantly. Laun shrugged.

"I can't tell from here. Just making sure. You kept closing one before." Suppressing an impolite remark, Deryne turned back to the target.

"Relax," Laun said in a loud, steady voice. "Make sure you're in line. Then just don't flinch. I think you keep moving to the side at the last moment, like you're afraid the string's gonna hit you. If it does, that's just too bad." Ignoring him, Deryne gripped the bow tightly, then released.

The arrow flew forwards, just hitting the edge of the target. Unable to stop a small squeal of delight, Deryne whirled around. Laun raised an eyebrow.

"So you hit the target. A second year should be able to hit somewhere in the red center-"

"Can you gag yourself for a moment?" Deryne demanded, grinning widely as she turned back to the target. "Maybe I'm not a lost cause, after all!" Laun snorted.

"So I suppose this means the mighty lady warrior wants a break." Smirking, Deryne turned back to the four other pages.

"I do, in fact. But only so we can hear what Inar's telling Cadel. We can't have him knowing secret little tricks on top of everything else; he'd be insufferable." Leo, Blaise, and Evrain lit up; she knew they had been dying to listen to the squire.

But by the time they crossed the practice field, Cadel and Inar had begun sparring. Laun rolled his eyes as Evrain and Aloin bet on the winner. Deryne sighed; she would be better off working on her archery. She just had not wanted any of her friends to feel obligated to helping her. Quietly, she went back to the targets, keeping half an eye on the mock fight. Inar seemed to be gaining a little ground, but Cadel was holding his own-

Shaking her head, Deryne picked up an arrow and tried to focus on the target, but found her gaze straying back to the duel. Inar had just knocked Cadel's blade to the side; her cousin ducked and recovered before the other boy could finish it. Both were grinning madly as they circled, feinting to one side and then the other. Then they charged, blades meeting before they pulled away again. Cadel parried a cut at his head, then lunged forwards. Inar smacked the blade away, and Cadel stumbled. Deryne aimed-

_Gudruna _whirled through her uninvited; a black shadow, a twist of a blade-

Cadel's eyes widening in panic- In the act of releasing, the girl whipped around to give the duel her full attention; Cadel was lunging in for another attack. She breathed a sigh of relief, wondering what the images had been-

Her eyes traveling the path the arrow had taken- thank the Goddess no one had been with her- she swallowed heavily.

"Oh dear," she managed as a wave of hornets scattered from the tree. "Oh-" Swearing, she dashed back towards her friends. "Run!" she yelped as the small, furious insects headed towards them. Evrain stared at her in disbelief.

"What-" Grabbing him by the shirt, Deryne ran past. She could hear the others following. She hiked the fence that circled the training yard and sprinted into the woods.

"Where do you think you're going, Queenscove?" Laun demanded sharply. She did not bothering answering; he knew as well as she did that there was a pond very close by-

When the gleaming water came into sight, Deryne leaped in, letting the cold water wash over her.

_At least I'm in practice clothes, _she thought as she resurfaced, shivering. Leo, Cadel, and Aloin had followed her example, but Evrain, Laun, and Blaise only watched, looks of puzzlement on their faces. Inar was in the process of entering the water and began floating on his back calmly. Deryne rolled her eyes.

"You want to get stung?" she yelled at them. Blaise looked at his sponsor, who shrugged and looked back into the woods. Laun snorted, but Deryne watched her red-haired friend, who suddenly grinned maniacally as his head swung back around to eye Laun.

"I'm not getting wet. That water is freezing. They've probably all gone back into their-" His words were cut off by Evrain's cursing. Herding Blaise into the water, Evrain ducked in, on the verge of laughter. Puzzled, Deryne collected the _gudruna _on the wind; she could not hear anything. Picking up on Evrain's plot, she cocked an eyebrow at Laun.

"I suggest you start running, then." Glaring at them, he waded in, looking back over his shoulder. Deryne nodded at Evrain solemnly. Laun turned back to her.

"Where are these wasps, Ev-" With a wild yell, Evrain leaped on him, forcing him underneath the water. The big redhead quickly resurfaced, looking pleased with himself. Deryne raised an eyebrow.

"Are you gonna let him up?" Evrain grinned.

"I did. I guess he wanted to swim, after all-" Deryne yelped as something clutched her ankle and twisted; water invaded her senses. When she managed to find the bottom and stand again, she broke the surface with a gasp and a glare ready for the culprit. Still sputtering, she opened her eyes to see him looking her right back in the eye.

"That was all you," Laun said sourly. "It had your _name _written all over it." Deryne adopted an air of innocence.

"Oh, no. It was all Ev." She pointed to him. "When I figured out what he was up to, I just helped him along a little." The others were laughing.

"Deryne, serves you right."

"Laun, seems you're loosening up. Retaliation is not the way of the stiff-necks." Laun glowered a moment more at her, then sloshed back to shore.

"I hate getting wet," he said tartly, which only served to make the other boys laugh harder.

"Like a little kitty, aren't you?"

"Careful, it might scratch!" Deryne couldn't help but smile at Evrain's last jab. Cadel snorted, then burst into a fit of coughs. Laun shot him a look.

"You can laugh if you want. I'm getting used to it-" Cadel shook his head, still coughing as he got out of the water. Concerned, Deryne followed him.

"Are you-" He stopped and smiled, eyes watery.

"Fine." He coughed again. "Ahem. Sorry." Picking up his sparring staff, he waved it at Inar. "Come, Ferensfell! Where we were when we were so rudely interrupted!" Tossing the squire his staff, Cadel charged into the pond again, waving his stick. Deryne laughed as they splashed around, the other boys shouting encouragingly and sloshing them with cold water droplets. She glanced at Laun, who had a half-hearted smile on his lips. Then Inar knocked Cadel back; the younger boy flew back into the water with a tremendous splash. Brushing his blond, soaked hair back, Inar waded over to where Cadel had disappeared warily. Deryne grinned; no doubt her cousin was plotting his counterattack-

Then Inar frowned.

"Cadel?" he said sharply before diving in. Deryne took a few steps forwards as Evrain and Laun converged on the spot to help Inar haul the coughing Cadel up.

"You all right there, mate?" Ev pounded his friend on the back. Cadel's brow creased as they helped him to shore. "It _is _kinda cold; you feel even more chilled than I am-"

"That's funny." Deryne's eyes narrowed. Cadel never sounded so far-away, so faint- "I'm feeling kinda warm, actually-" As his cousin started forwards, he toppled forwards, sliding from his friends' grasps to the ground, unconscious.


	22. Chapter 21: Sickness

_I am REALLY sorry about this. It took a long time AND I left you off at a bad spot. My apologies. I am sick, had vacation and school-_

_Sadly, I will probably be very busy from now until June, so- giving you all a heads-up this time- the chapters might take longer than usual. I have not disappeared off the face of the earth. ;p I will be back soon. Hopefully this will tide you over._

_Thanks to **xxTunstall Chickxx**, **dares to dream**, **SarahE7191**, **Shang Leopard**, **EternityFalls**, **cahawk**, and **silvericedrop**. Thanks to my beta, **KyrieofAccender**._

* * *

_Sickness_

_Chapter 21_

_October 12, 477 H.E. _

Deryne clutched Cadel's hand as her father brandished a glowing hand, a faint frown on his face. Behind her, all the boys except Aloin, who had been sent for the Lady Keladry, hovered. Every since they had brought their friend to the infirmary, he had been tossing and turning, soaked in sweat. Deryne could not understand how he could have gone from challenging Inar to _this _in less than an hour.

The girl watched Neal with narrowed, intent eyes as the healer studied his cousin's son. After a moment, the green glow around him faded, and he sat back in his chair. Deryne was surprised to see a drop of perspiration forming on his brow. Her heart was in her throat as she locked eyes with her father, who sighed. Her grip on her cousin's hand tightened.

Neal whipped his forehead, then looked at each of the other pale pages and opened his mouth to speak.

At that moment, Kel burst in; the door slammed into the wall as she and Queen Shinkokami approached them. Both were dressed in breeches and sweating; by the glaive in the queen's hand, Deryne could guess that the two had been sparring.

"Neal-" Kel looked from the bed where her son lay to her old friend. The man grimaced, running a hand through his hair.

"I don't know, Kel," he said softly, and Deryne's eyes widened. Seeing the panic on their faces, Neal smiled ruefully. "Sorry; he'll be fine. But that's not what's bothering me." Something inside Deryne went very still. Neal seemed to forget about the pages; he bowed to the queen, who was a friend of his wife.

"All the same," he addressed her. "Chamberlain came in a few weeks ago. Stricken with a fever and hallucinations. His sweetheart dragged him in, the obstinant-" He muttered something under his breath, then looked the bewildered, Yamani woman in the eye. "Dead, a few days ago. There's something going around. I would warn the king, then I'll have to organize a check-" Grimacing, he rubbed his temples. "The girl who brought the servant in told me there's been a fever in the city. Nothing much, but it seems to be killing off a lot before they think to go to a healer." He turned back to Kel, who had not taken her distant eyes off of Cadel. "He'll be all right, Kel. I healed him, much as I could-" He scowled again, scratching his head. "That's the other thing. It's a tricky fever. Doesn't give up. Takes a lot of Gift to send off…." He cleared his throat. "I'd like to talk to some of the older healers, maybe." Queen Shinkokami's lips were pressed firmly together; she nodded.

"I'll speak to Roald," she promised.

* * *

The air chilled Rikash to the bone as he and Inar wandered through the catacombs. He shoved his blond hair out of his eyes as their feet echoed through the silent, dark chambers.

"Me and Cadel used to sneak around down here before we saw a shadow run across the wall one night," the boy whispered. Something about the place lurked forbodingly in the air around them; if they _were _ghosts, he did not want to disturb their quiet resting places more than was necessary. "I guess it was a rat or sommat, but we never came down again-"

"Sometimes the older pages will take first years down here and leave them to find their way out on their own," Inar murmured as he frowned thoughtfully. Rikash shivered as they wandered past the statue of a stately king with blank eyes that stared out into nothing.

"We aren't lost, are we?" Inar looked at him in surprise, then grinned.

"Nah. I know where we are." He let his hand run across a pyre of marble. "I just need to remember where we're going…. Little more light?" Rikash held his hand up higher, and the fireball in his hand grew. "Good- ah! Right!" Inar pointed to a tomb decorated in unfamiliar symbols. "Little on past this one!" He strode forwards. Rikash looked at the name on the stone. It was hard to find, among all the squiggles.

_Roger of Conte. _The hairs on the back of his neck rose.

"Inar-" The other boy did not hear him; he had probably never noticed. After all, the tomb's intricate design hid the name well, and- if Rikash had remembered his history lessons correctly- the traitor duke no longer rested there. He had been burned alive-

They jogged down a flight of stairs when Inar stopped abruptly and whipped around, a little like a deer sensing a hunter.

"Did you hear something?" Rikash started, then glanced around.

"Rat?" he asked. Inar shrugged.

"Probably. Sorry. I haven't come down all this way to bolt, if that's what you're wondering now." Rikash scowled to cover up his own unease.

"I should hope not. I'd drag you back by your collar." Inar smirked, as though he knew exactly what Rikash was thinking. Then he continued walking, and his friend followed.

"I think you'll be impressed," Inar said. His voice grew confident, and calm. "Braving a couple of weak ghosts dead enough to let us wander among them is worth it." Rikash shushed him. "Relax, will you? There's no need to fear." He laughed, and the sound bounced off the stone walls and down into the darkness before them.

"Glad to see you're so happy," Rikash muttered.

"I am," Inar replied conversationally. "I never feel better than this. Alive among the dead. It's bitterly comforting, if you know what I mean." Rikash did not reply. A door opened, and they crept into blackness. "And… right here." He raised one of the pieces of wood he had been holding in his arm to a bracket in the wall. "Light?" Rikash complied, then followed Inar around the wall to light the rest of the torches. When they finished, he turned around and inhaled sharply.

A dark circle surrounded by letterings and runes lay on the floor. And, in the center, a blade was stuck in the floor. He stepped closer, but Inar grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Careful," was his caution. "The spell's burned into the floor. We'll have to work around it." He gestured to a spot nearest to where they had entered. Spellbound by the design, Rikash walked around it and sat down. Inar sat on the opposite side.

"How'd you find this?"

"I was wandering around down here once, and I fell onto it. Good thing I didn't step on it, or I might be dead." Inar's eyes gleamed as he pulled out the jug of water and small vials he had brought to perform the binding.

"What is it?"

"Weird kind of spell. They don't really use them anymore. This one's probably been here for centuries." Inar spilled the contents of the jug out over the circle; Rikash stiffened as hissing steam rose, as though the water had touched heated metal. Still, a small stream of water trickled its way across the floor towards him. "When it gets to you, put your fingers there, in the circle. But only where the floor is wet. It's spelled water that will keep the gate from killing you."

"Gate?" The apprentice mage tensed as the tiny river touched the shining blade of the sword stuck in the center.

"The circle, of course." As the small drops reached the edge of the gate and crawled over it, Rikash swallowed nervously. Inar saw his hesitation and put his own hand in the water. "See? Harmless." Steeling himself, Rikash rolled his eyes and did the same.

"Ash and water bind the flame," Inar muttered. Then his eyes went dark and he whispered several words in an ancient tongue that sent chills through Rikash. "So mote it be." Rikash flinched as the water exploded with light, blinding him as Inar's blue Gift snaked through the gate and into him, the sword tripling the effect as it reflected the fire. He was reminded of flame as orange mingled with the blue that settled over him. He felt claustrophobic, his stomach churning as the magic pulled and twisted him, pounding his Gift down and molding it anew. His magic burned him as it resisted, its licking flames racing across his skin before the spell caught it and buried it somewhere so deep that Rikash could no longer sense even the faintest, lingering taint. Then the light disappeared, leaving him gasping for breath on the floor, his hand still in the water. He hastily withdrew it as he began to cough.

Eyes watering, he looked over at Inar, whose alarmed, wide eyes calmed as he saw that everything was fine.

"Well?" Rikash paused. Everything seemed all right-

Breaking a button off of his tunic, the boy held it up and closed his eyes. For a moment, it trembled in his hands. Then it burst into a shimmering cloud of dust before forming a butterfly in midair. The colorful insect fluttered around Rikash, then over to Inar.

"No flames," Rikash breathed. Both boys looked at each other and grinned. Then Rikash leaned back on his elbows and sighed. "We did it."

* * *

By the king's order, everyone- servant or noble- had to report to the infirmary to be checked for sickness. Even an apprentice could detect the disease; when they found someone with the symptoms, they were sent to be treated by the older healers. Whenever Deryne was there to sit with Cadel, who was still sleeping, she watched her father, who dashed around with dark hollows beneath his eyes. He seemed to slump a little more with every person he healed.

"I never would have thought that this many people would have it and not notice," she whispered to Cadel. He mumbled something unintelligible under his breath and turned away from her. Sighing, Deryne found her eyes wandering through the bustle of perople arriving and leaving. "How long did you have it and not know?" No answer. Not surprising. A healer named Aryaon walked past and smiled at her.

"I didn't know haMinch gave leave to visit the sick," she said in her friendly voice. Ayraon had long, dark tresses and a wide, kind mouth; as an apprentice, she had occasionally watched a toddler Deryne in the infirmary when Neal had been preoccupied with patients. Deryne grimaced.

"He doesn't. I decided I could forgo my etiquette assignments and come down here with that extra time after lessons. Master Oakbridge doesn't like me much, anyway," she said, mouth quirking. "Won't make much of a difference if I forget the work." Ayraon snorted.

"Who needs to know how to be proper, anyway, eh? When are you gonna bow to the bandits ready to jump ya on the road, huh?" She winked. Deryne smiled back. "But your da's coming back around, and he probably wouldn't be too pleased to see you here. Worried you're gonna catch it, I bet."

"All the more reason for me to stay," she retorted. "Then he can check me himself." Aryraon fixed her with a stern stare.

"Don't you dare, missy," she said in a no-nonsense voice that could make haMinch click his heels. "Have you seen him? Like a drunkard run over by a mad cart, I say. He can barely see straight, the way he's going on." Deryne frowned.

"It's _that _bad?" Aryoan's gentle mouth hardened.

"Not really," she muttered, eyes traveling across the room where a man with a hacking cough strode in. "They don't cough; he's got something else to liven up the motonomy, it seems-" She made as though to head for him. Deryne rose hastily.

"Ary-"

"We just need rest," the woman said abruptly. "And we'll get it; Neal's called in a few powerful healers in to the capital, the Lioness among them. This will be nipped in the bud in a few weeks. We just need to keep you lot alive until then."

A few days later, Blaise of Glassbour fell ill. After a couple of weeks, Inar left with the Own, promising the others that he would be back for Midwinter.

"There'd better be gifts, Squire!" Evrain called out as Inar left.

"I'll be sure to bring back some spidren heads for you," the mounted squire retorted dryly. He nodded to each of them, smiling a little at Deryne. "Tell your cousin we'll call that duel a draw. It wasn't fair, if he was sick." She grinned.

"I'm sure that will be the first thing he'll complain about," she assured him. "Kill some immortals for us, and come back with your head intact." Inar's smile was lopsided.

"I assure you that's my first priority."

A few days after that, Cadel woke up. Delighted, Deryne visited during lunch and after lessons to tell him what he had missed. Soon he was as cheerful as ever, insisting that he was well enough to leave.

Still, Neal made him stay in bed. Jokingly, Evrain accused the chief healer of conspiring with his young relative; if Cadel had time to recover, then the rest of the pages would lose their chances to finally defeat him in a duel.

Clearly not in the mood for jokes, Neal had darkly forbidden duels right then and there and barred them from the infirmary during the week. Still, the group of friends, _including _Laun, snuck in to visit the page whenever they could. On Sundays, they continued to practice in the courts before going to the infirmary as the weather grew colder. As though he felt guilty for her cousin's illness, Laun grudgingly helped Deryne more and more with her archery. By the start of December, haMinch would pass by Deryne when the pages were at the targets with nothing more than a sniff before walking on.

"We'll make a knight out of you yet," Evrain said, thumping her on the back as the pair peeked out from behind a tree, snow up to their ankles. Somewhere in the woods surrounding them, Aloin and Leo lurked armed with snow missiles. "Go and see Cadel?" Deryne nodded in agreement.

"Ready? Charge!" With a wild yell, she left their sanctuary, sprinting forwards as Aloin leapt out from behind a rock.

"Fire!" he bellowed, chucking a white glob at her; she ducked, but it hit Evrain in the side of the head. Deryne saw Leo too late; the small boy tossed a wet, cold snowball at her; the girl felt the white powder against her neck and yelped. Aloin was already molding another snowball, but Evrain grabbed an armful of snow and lobbed it in the page's general direction. His straw blond mop of hair was buried as Evrain charged onwards.

"Come on!" Both he and Deryne dashed forwards, Leo following with a hastily made missile in his fist. The older pages outran his short legs easily, entering the palace long before their small friend.

The two burst into the infirmary laughing as they pulled off their hats and mittens, the melting snow sparkling on their faces and in their hair. Deryne glanced around, hushing Evrain. Technically, no visitors were allowed in at this time, even though the pages freely broke the rule to see how their friends were doing. The few healers who turned a blind eye and ear to them, the better. They were lucky; nobody was in the main room. Quietly, they snuck into the recovery ward, where Cadel was. Deryne smiled when she saw her cousin curled up, sleeping.

"Lazy boy," Evrain muttered as they approached. Winking at him, Deryne picked a small chunk of snow off of her coat and grabbed her cousin's hand. She dropped it as though she had been burned. Paling, she backed away, gripping Evrain's arm. "What?"

"No," she whispered quietly, gray eyes wide. "No, no-"

Both of their heads whipped around as the hall door banged open. Instinct took over; Deryne grabbed Evrain and dragged him underneath the empty bed opposite Cadel's. Trembling, she pressed her face to the floor so that she could see the bed where her cousin lay; the blanket hanging over the sides of the cot should keep them from being discovered.

Did her aunt Kel know, while she fought off whatever threat the realm had given the Own this time? Did her uncle know?

"What in the Goddess's name is going on?" she heard an unmistakable voice snap. Her stomach clenched; so the Lioness had come at last.

"I don't know." Her father's voice broke; there was a flurry of voices that made Deryne think the pair was not alone. Her fists clenched as the group walked through the door towards Cadel's bed. Evrain shifted so that he could watch the scene. From her odd angle, the girl could see her father, the Lioness, and the king. There were others- Harailt, one of the mages at the University, and several she did not know- And _them. _She heard Evrain gasp softly; she elbowed him in the ribs.

The old king Jonathon Conte and his queen, Thayet the Peerless, had presences that filled a room. His handsome features were lined with strength, his silver hair belying the toll years of kingship had had on him. Her perfect face and grace were only enhanced with the dignity of age, or so Deryne believed. Evrain had probably never laid eyes on them before….

But their surprise appearance had no effect on her; her heart pounded, her mouth was dry. Cadel-

Neal sat at the boy's side, looking up at the Lioness with a hopelessness that sent a chill down Deryne's spine.

_He's fine- he has to be, _she told herself instantly, feeling ill. But hadn't Ary hinted just the opposite? Hadn't she said everything would be over in a few weeks? It _wasn't _over; Cadel- _He can't be…._

"It sucks everything from me; I'm dry," he said in a low voice. "And so many of them just fall ill again." He rested a hand on Cadel's head. "And die." His voice wavered; he shut his eyes. "I don't think… no one seems to realize how serious this is. This _isn't _normal." Thin lips pressed tightly together, the Lioness drew closer to the bed. Soft footsteps made Deryne turn her head; she suspected no one heard them but her. Leo stood in the doorway, his wide eyes taking in the scene silently. Color drained from his face, but Deryne turned away from him, back to the Lioness as the woman placed a hand on Cadel's forehead.

Purple light shone softly around her and the page's body. Deryne's nails bit into her palm as the Lioness's eyes closed and her brow furrowed, as though she was struggling to recall something. Jonathon joined her, his Gift glowing a sapphire blue. A moment later, both pairs of eyes flung open in alarm.

Confused, Deryne stared numbly as the two exchanged a swift nod.

"It is," Alanna whispered softly. "I-" Taking Cadel's small hand in hers, she brought it to her lips. "I hoped never to see this again-"

"What?" Neal demanded, voice harsh. His old knight mistress turned, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry, Neal," she said wearily. "I wish you did not…." Silence fell again; goosebumps rose on Deryne's skin. Then the Lioness began to speak again. "The last time something like this happened…"

"We were pages," Jonathon Conte said in a deep, commanding voice that had an undefined edge to it. Deryne blinked as her father's eyes widened with horror. Roald did not look much healthier. _What do they mean-_

But it did not matter, not if Cadel- Not if it was too late. Deryne felt as though she saw everything too clearly, and yet too distantly at the same time-

"You don't mean-" Neal stopped.

"Summon Numair." Roald's eyes were hard. "He should have tracked that mage down _months _ago-"

"Is it him?" Neal asked in a low voice. The older Tortallans stared at the younger pair with worry.

"Who else?" the king spat. "I-" He turned towards the door and stopped; Deryne whipped her head back around to see Leo still standing there.

Before she could blink, the Lioness had grabbed the heir.

"Out," she ordered in a low, dangerous voice before any of his relatives could move. "Get out! Now!" Not waiting for him to obey, she swept out with him. There were a few minutes of dead silence before the red and gray haired woman came back, purple eyes glittered. "It won't happen again, not if I have anything to say about it," she said in a quiet voice that sounded more angry than any shout.

"You cannot be certain," Thayet said anxiously, putting a hand on the lady knight's arm. "It could be any-" Deryne watched the dark look exchanged between the old king and his champion.

"It is," Alanna said shortly. Her eyes were distant. "It has the same taint, the same hold-" She shuddered. "Hallucinations- the fever-"

"Almost as though Roger sent it himself," Jonathon muttered with the same, faraway look. "The same feeling, even-"

"I failed!" Alanna snarled, slamming a fist on the bed post; it trembled beneath her blow. "I thought I burned it all! Or hid it! _Everything! _This-" She swore heartily, her chest heaving as the others eyed her warily. "-found his work, somewhere! And used it! I failed, and now he's back to haunt us _again_!" Her blazing eyes fixed on Roald. "All respect due, Your Majesty, but I am off to speak with Numair. I swear to you, this bastard will be found and brought to Crown justice." As cold and numb as she felt, Deryne could not help but notice the sudden, shuddering aura of power gather around the woman. No wonder she had been Champion; no wonder she, of all people in the world, had won the Dominion Jewel for her king. "Or I'll kill him myself." With that ominous vow, she exited with a dangerous gleam in her gaze.

"She'll find him," Jonathon said gravely. "Great mage or no, he stands no chance. One who meddles with Duke Roger's magics will certainly be hunted down mercilessly by her." He cleared his throat. "Archenemies. I could scarcely believe he was gone for good, at the end. It seemed as though he would never be able to rest until she was dead, just as she could not give in until he was. That mage is in for a reckoning beyond his wildest dreams."

The mage… surely they were speaking of the one who had kidnapped both her and Cyne…?

"Numair said he did not know the man's name," Neal said lowly.

"Impossible." Dismay and disbelief colored Roald's voice. "He's a black robe mage-"

"No. And none of the other black robes know of him, either. One of them said he thought he sensed a tremor that could have been an earthquake or a sign of one of _them _performing a spell beyond all other capabilities a few years ago, but he did not know of a fellow black robe in the area…." Neal rubbed his face; he looked older and more vulnerable than Deryne had ever seen him. "Excuse me. I must tell Kel- and Dom-" He could not finish; he only bowed before taking his leave. The king was left by Cadel's bedside with his parents. Deryne scarcely dared to breathe.

"Is Leo in danger?" Roald asked.

"Shinko, too," his father said softly. "It was the aim of Roger to kill me and weaken my mother even more, just in case." The king paled.

"Why?" he managed. "Who could benefit-"

"Maybe it isn't for gain," Thayet said sadly. "Come. It would not do for Tortall's king to catch the sickness."

Deryne was across the aisle of beds and holding Cadel's hand the moment the door was shut behind the royals. She looked into his tense face. He was shivering.

Then she buried her face in his warm palm. She could feel the tears falling across her cheeks as Evrain drew close.

"Don't die," she whispered. "Not sick again- no, not when-" Her voice broke; most of those weak enough to succumb to the disease a second time passed into the Black God's realm. "Don't you dare," she hissed, clutching his hand. Hoping that, somehow, he might hear her, she sent her voice on the wind's whisper.

_Stay here. With us. Please…. _

Her Gift swept through his mind and brought back a soft, zephyr-like thought. It was feeble, but Deryne smiled as it murmured to her what Cadel did not have the strength to say.

_I don't dare. I'm not that brave. _

Then she felt his mind fall back into delerium, and broke the taboo connection with his mind.

"He'll be fine," she said gently to Evrain, not certain if the assurance was for his sake or hers. "Just fine."

* * *

The city was quarantined; no one was allowed in or out of Corus. Page training was postponed; pages were sent to carry messages between mages and the Gifted helped the healers in the infirmary. Deryne found it difficult to heal anyone, but- to her relief- she discovered that she could easily strengthen someone, patient or healer. She walked from bed to bed, giving each invalid as much energy as she dared. More important was keeping the Gifted conscious; with her spells, a healer could go without sleep for days. But the transmitted strength was not as effective as a good night's sleep, something Neal sent her away for every ten hours.

"Food, bath, and sleep," he ordered raggedly the first time she had protested. "We have half the sick bay and all my people relying on your power for a life-saving boost. Everyone is fine for now. If you are desperately needed, you'll be sent for." This was a lie, of course. Her father would not let her rest be disturbed. "Listen to me, Deryne," he hissed when it was clear she did not believe him. "We _need _you. You _cannot _get sick. If His Highness falls ill, we need backup. Last time this happened, to King Jonathon, it struck him last and hardest, once all the healers had no Gift left to give." A shudder ran through the girl at the grim look in her father's usually gentle eyes. "But no one can sit and wait for the prince to fall ill while others are dying. You have strength; they'll need it." After this piece of confidence, Deryne had consented to leave, if ungracefully. She did not see Evrain, Aloin, or Laun ever; they were left to complete servants' tasks as stable hands, maids, and guards fell ill. She could only be grateful that their absence from the infirmary, where she spent most of her time, meant they were well.

* * *

"I can't sleep!" she snapped, throwing a pillow across the room. Duskwing squawked as it flew past him, then glared disapprovingly. "I'm fine, I'm awake, and my father won't let me in again for another hour!"

_I thought you had passed this infancy stage, _the Chamber sniffed from within her bird. _Clearly, I was mistaken. _Growling under her breath, Deryne whipped around to glower at him.

"What can I do?" she demanded heatedly. "Tell me what to do! They think it's the man who kidnapped me and the Lioness still hasn't found this mage! Could I? And how does Roger's stuff come into this, anyway?" Alanna's words bothered her. Had the lady knight kept some of it? Might she have hid it in the same room as Thom's belongings? She shivered at the thought.

_He sent the Sweating Sickness to Corus last time. Brewed it up and sent it from Carthak. _

"Was he a black robe?"

_Hardly. _Duskwing flapped his wings. _Black robes were rare. Magic dies and grows in cycles that last centuries. That time was the end of one era, the rise of another. With the finding of the Dominion Jewel, all sorts of magical problems arose again. Or have you noticed how history has suddenly grown more interesting in the last few decades? _It sounded amused.

"So he could be anywhere," Deryne muttered. "Big help. Who is this man?" There was no answer. "Chamber?" Gone. Glowering, the girl stood and walked over to her kestrel, running her hands through the glossy feathers. "Are you there?" she whispered before removing the jesses from Duskwing's feet. She sat as the bird cocked its head to one side as though concerned. Then he fluttered down to where she rested and pecked her gingerly. She yelped and flinched, sending the kestrel flying.

Idly, she wondered how smart Daine had made him, or if the Chamber's possession made him more clever. He almost seemed human, at times.

Closing her eyes, she struggled to dredge up whatever details she could about the mage. Carefully, she replayed his entrance into the room she and Cyne had been held in, trying to recall the light, his expressions and voice-

He had known her father. Had she told anyone that? Of course she had; Numair had been intrigued, and Neal suggested it had been someone he had attended the University with until he became a page.

He had known about her magic. She had not thought that was public knowledge. He could have found it out without too much difficulty, but that meant that he wanted to know about Deryne… and her Gift. And he had said her magic was old before he began preening his hair with that ring glinting on his finger-

The ring!

Deryne sat up with a gasp. The four jewels, the small insignia on the opal in the center-

She recognized the symbol. She knew it.

She had seen it before. Twice before. She had been an utter moron not to have known it, the moment she had first lay eyes on it-

Leaping up, she ran to her trunk, nearly crashing into it in her haste. Kneeling down, she fumbled with the latch, then yanked the lid open and rummaged through her belongings.

Dresses, breeches, and tunics all lay on the floor in her mad search. Finally, she found it.

Fingers trembling, she pulled a tiny wooden box out of the bottom of her trunk. Sliding the secret lid open, she shook its contents out into her hand and dashed back over to her bedside to light a candle. Once the flame flickered before her eyes, Deryne lifted the small piece of glass in her fingers in front of the light.

Even though she had already known what she would see, she still gasped.

The symbol on the mage's ring had been a rune. Four runes, to be exact. The piece of glass had three of them, the flame, the lines, and the circle, positioned in the exact same way as on the ring, as though someone had wiped away the last one.

And Deryne remembered where she had seen the same symbol. In the main temple of the building where she had been held.

It was the same as the pattern on the floor.

* * *

_And... now I'm going to bed. I feel like crap. Sorry again about the lateness._


	23. Chapter 22: Deceiving Deceptions

Yay for not doing history homework! ;D

I need to go to bed now, so thank you SO MUCH to all readers and reviewers for your patience! Sorry about the no acknowledgements right now... I hope this lives up to expectations!

By the way, at the bottom of my profile, I have added a character list at the request of a reviewer. I'm still working on it, but it outlines the foremost characters for now!

* * *

_Chapter 22_

_Deceptive Distractions_

_December 30, 477 H.E._

"Please, Master Numair-" The mage shook his head as he read.

"Deryne, I do not have time for this," he said in a low, annoyed voice.

"But it's important!" The page shoved the piece of glass underneath her teacher's nose. "This sign! What does it mean?" Sighing heavily, Numair looked up at her, dark circles under his eyes betraying his late work hours.

"Deryne, I _must _find this mage-" Deryne pointed at it again.

"He was wearing _that _symbol!" she exclaimed. "On a ring! Except there's a rune missing on the glass!" Numair instantly straightened. Frowning, he turned back to the piece of glass. Picking it up, he held it up to candlelight.

"Where did you get this?" he asked aloud. Deryne was grateful when he continued without waiting for an answer. "What does the entire insignia look like?" He pushed a piece of parchment and quill at her as he continued to study the markings. Hastily, Deryne sketched the leaf, flame, circle, and three lines and dropped the quill on the desk. "Are you sure?" The girl nodded; Numair looked back at it, eyes keener. He turned it on its sides, upside down-

Then he put it down and ran a hand through his hair.

"It could mean _anything_, Deryne. Anything-"

"Does it look old?" Numair chuckled softly.

"Yes, yes- it's in one of the ancient tongues- the flame is fire, of course. All those runes look about the same, no matter who wrote in it or when they did-" He bit his lip in thought. "But it could be anything, from a guild sign in Scanra to a secret society of the Doi. I'll ask Harailt, and some others, perhaps, but I doubt it they have seen this sort of writing…." Deryne was surprised when he looked back up at her; he had all the appearances of retreating back into his own little world. "But it's something. Thank you, Deryne. Anything else you remember? At all?" Deryne's gaze flickered back to the stone in Numair's hand. "Take it back; you gave me the whole rune on the paper, anyway." She smiled and took it back.

"He- he acted very knowledgeable. About…" She hesitated; hadn't she already told Numair this? Perhaps not… she could not exactly recall…. His dark eyes scrutinized her. "My Gift. He said it was old." Numair's eyebrows rose.

"Old Magic, eh?" he asked softly. He smiled ruefully. "Maybe that's why it is so odd…. Though, if this mystery mage is right, how you would have got it is another inexplicable-" Fading away, he leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin. He had a little stubble on his face. "Old Magic isn't usually inherited, unless there's a parent God mixed in there-" Deryne snorted.

"I don't think so." He smiled.

"I don't, either. Besides, Old Magic is a very broad term, which refers to potent human Gift- the most common- God magic, like the time my wife was given-"

"I'm sure it's a very… interesting subject," Deryne cut in swiftly; she sensed Numair was easing into lengthy lecture mode. "But I guess you don't have time right now." The man blinked, then laughed.

"No, I suppose I don't." He waved her away as he turned back to his books. "Thanks again. Stay well." The page bowed and grinned impishly back at her teacher before opening the study door.

"You, too."

* * *

Weeks passed; they seemed like years to Deryne as they moved the dead, comforted the dying, and fought for the living. The walks to the sick got shorter and shorter as cots were erected in the hallways; there was no more room in the immense infirmary, among the nobles, servants, and city folk who had come for help. It was along one of these walks that Deryne turned to see Mequen waving her down.

"Meq!" Guilt and pleasure battled in her mind as she waved back at her fellow page; she had forgotten him in these past weeks. He returned her smile.

"You got a moment?" Deryne nodded.

"I was headed for the infirmary-" Mequen scratched his head.

"Yeah, that's what Ev said. That you're either there or sleeping."

"Sometimes I even sleep there," she laughed as she walked on. He followed. "So where have you been waiting this out?"

"With Sir Myles. He's glad to have somebody who can carry crates around," he replied. Deryne frowned; there was another person she had not thought about in a while.

"How is he?"

"Spry as ever," Mequen retorted wryly. "Researching the last plague a little, too. It's amazing what that old man can remember. You know Alanna saved Jon's life, when he fell ill? And that's how Myles figured out she was a girl, because she went through some deep magic?"

"Mmm." The healers talked like there was no tomorrow in the ward. Deryne looked at the hospital beds lining either side of the walls. "So where are you off to now?"

"Myles sent me out for a break, so I'm just a free hand wandering about-"

"I'll enlist you, then," Deryne said, smiling. "I need someone to follow me around and make sure I go get rest before I faint." She quickly explained her job as a strength-giver as they made their way through the beds. Most of the ill were well enough on their own, and the healers were refreshed from the reprieve. Maybe the sorcerer was losing his power; he could not continue to send something of this magnitude after Corus, when so many were fighting it and searching for him….

There were whispers from the servants who served the scrying mages- who included the Lioness and Numair- that all traces of the spell returned to the palace. That it was the work of a traitor working within the very capital.

It seemed impossible that he- whoever he was- could go on for much longer.

It was then that Deryne spotted a familiar dark head; Leo was sitting on one of the beds, talking to the invalid. In an instant, Deryne was on him, grabbing his collar.

"Do you know what the Lioness would do to you if she saw you here?" she demanded, hauling him off the bed. Hands on his hips, the prince glared up at her.

"Why should I be stuck in my room?" he demanded. Disgusted, Deryne only shook her head as she dragged him out, Mequen following them. Once they were outside and past the passageways with beds, she roughly stopped him. "I was with Morag when he started talking to somebody who wasn't there, so I took him-" Deryne threw her arms up into the air; did this boy understand what _deadly illness _meant? Did he understand that the last time this happened, his grandfather nearly _died_?

"Then you should've gotten someone else to help him, or left the moment he was taken care of!" He looked half-hurt, half-annoyed, but his sponsor was having none of it; this was important. She grabbed him by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. "_Listen_. You. Are. The. Heir. If I see you anywhere but in your room, I will _drag _you back the hairand _personally _notify your mother, Gods help you." His dark eyes did not waver, but he nodded. "You get me? You won't leave?"

"Not unless I'm seeing things," the boy replied. Deryne's grip on him tightened.

"Don't even kid about that," she hissed. "People are _dying_, Leo. I-" She cleared her throat and blinked. "If you are one of those dead, I'll always blame myself for not looking out for you better." The prince frowned.

"You shouldn't. You're busy, and-" Deryne waved a finger under his nose, silencing him before she ushered him down the hall.

"So don't get sick."

* * *

The next day, Deryne woke to soft calls from Duskwing. Groggily, she sat up and glared at her kestrel.

"Do you mind?" she asked shortly. "I only just got to sleep, finally, and-"

_There's trouble, _the Chamber said darkly. She scowled.

"My da hasn't called me down; they can handle it." Duskwing screeched; the girl winced, putting her hands up to her ears.

_They _think _they can, because they aren't looking close enough. Trust me; you'll want to see this. _When she did not move, the Chamber added, _When have I ever been wrong?_

There was no answering that. Deryne groaned.

"Gods damn cryptic, all knowing beasties," she muttered, rubbing her eyes as she stepped into her boots; she had slept in her clothes. All she needed to do was pull back her hair, and she was decent.

It was very early morning; first light crept in through the windows as Deryne walked down the silent halls.

The beds outside the infirmary were empty; she picked up her pace.

The usual night-shift healers wandered about, but Deryne's ears and eyes- well attuned to the sights and sounds of the ill- noticed subtle differences. There was little tossing and twisting, no sudden cries…. And nearly a quarter of the beds in the wards were empty! She hailed Aryaon down as the woman passed by. Beaming, the healer clapped her on the shoulder.

"I can't believe it!" she whispered loudly, looking around. "A couple hours after you left yesterday, the fever broke for about a quarter of the patients! Then the rest of them started coming out of it- we left the extra cots outside, but we don't need them anymore. No one's died in the last seven hours, and all signs of it have disappeared!" Deryne's jaw dropped; the Chamber called _this _bad? The woman pulled her into an enthusiastic hug. "The mage must have given up!" Deryne pulled back, her thoughts returning to her cousin.

"Cadel?"

"All the pages have made it through," Ary confirmed, grinning. "I told haMinch myself. He wants to start work with you lot immediately, but your father told him off and forbid it until after Midwinter!" With Ary on her heels, the girl took off to find Cadel, who was sleeping, but looked better than he had in awhile. Exclaiming quietly, Deryne spun around and gripped the woman's arms.

"We did it!" she squealed, relief making her muscles go weak.

"I know!" Ary's eyes glittered. "I know! And it's only a matter of time before they find the scumbag who did this!"

_So what's so wrong? _Deryne wondered as they sat on the end of Cadel's bed. _Unless there's going to be a relapse- but Ary said the healers couldn't find any of it left in the sick…._

Yesterday. What had happened the day before? It felt as though she had to reach back an eternity to recall.

Meq. She had seen Mequen for the first time in days, and he was going to help her in the ward when-

Deryne frowned, turning back to look at the peacefully sleeping Cadel. She felt as though she was too close to the answer for comfort-

The illness had spread quickly, very quickly- and then disappeared without a trace after months… it was early January, now…. It had all begun in mid-October… had it really been less than three short months? She shook her head to clear it.

The mage with the ring. Why would he just call it off, when the Crown mages probably weren't any closer to him than they had been in the last couple weeks?

As the answer hit her, Deryne gasped.

_To distract everyone from the real problem. _

_From the point of the whole spell…._

As Ary began to talk at her, Deryne threw herself off the bed in a full sprint, shoving past one of the men wandering around in her dash towards the door.

"Get the king!" she shouted over her shoulder as Ary and other healers followed, scolding her. "Get the Lioness!" She took the steps two at a time, leaping up them towards the pages' wing. Heart pounding, she tore off down the passageway, past the fourth-year rooms, past the third-years, beyond the second-years-

She did not even bother trying the lock; summoning her Gift, she slammed the door with her magic as she burst in, the lettering gleaming in the sudden flash of silver blue light. _Leoraed of Conte. _

Leo was lying on the rug by the window seat. Unconscious. Without breaking her stride, Deryne fell to the stone floor and touched his forehead. He was burning up.

Swearing to herself, she grabbed his hand and forced his mind open.

Delirium. Hallucinations. The day at the training courts, the day Cadel fell ill…. Cadel and Deryne turning on the small boy with glaives and wicked laughter-

"Leo!" she hissed, clutching his hand. He moaned, and tried to twist away from her, but Deryne held him fast.

"Goddess!" She looked up; Ary stood in the door. The woman was beside her in a moment. Her magenta-colored Gift flared; the healer cursed.

"He's under it. Too far-" Deryne shook her friend. "He'll be dead in moments, Deryne-" _It won't happen again-_

"No!" she snapped. "Can you bind the sickness, long enough for the Lioness to get here-"

"Of course, but it's taken his strength, too much-"

"Do it!" the girl snapped. "Don't worry-" When Ary did nothing, she glared at the woman. "Now!" Ary met her gaze steadily.

"How strong are you, Deryne?" she asked softly. The girl scowled.

"Strong enough. Now bind it, or I'll go in and die, too!" Ary's eyes darkened for a moment, but her fingers twirled; magenta fire rolled over Leo's skin.

Bracing herself, Deryne closed her eyes and grabbed at the _gudruna _flitting through the air. As she bound them tightly together, she forced them into Leo's mind, forming a current that bound the two pages together. She had done this before to save the dying, but never one who was _so _close to the Death God's kingdom-

The _gudruna _helped her feel out the mind, its nooks and crannies-

Death was a frightening chasm in the furthest, darkest corners of this world, a crack that widened and drew life away as the soul slipped away-

"Leo, you get back here," Deryne whispered as the chasm shuddered. "Remember what I told you?" She tried to grasp at a memory, anything to hold him here while she worked, but it was too late; everything was moving too fast for her-

There was one thing left to do.

Her Gift grew in her fingertips; strength and energy swarmed to the touch as she dug down. Power for Leo. Life for him. It grew as she summoned it, from the deepest reaches of her soul, of her mind…. More and more came from sources she had never used; she called even more when she thought she had nothing left….

This was Tortall's future. The heir to the throne. Her friend- she pictured the bright look in his eyes as he explained his absurd reasonings- her charge- she imagined him riding that wild mare he _had _to have-

A laugh bubbled in her throat; a sob left her lips. This was not over. Not if she had anything to do about it. She focused on Leo, weaving every memory she had of him and forcing a channel between them; she hoped this would work….

Their minds merged; Deryne ignored the wild dreams and fluttering panic in the boy's mind. She knew what she was searching for… the dark shadow cast upon the mind and body, squeezing the life out of him-

Yes, the sickness had pulled away, but its work was done. Leo was weak, weak enough to fall away and die, in the mere seconds before others would burst in-

_It seems I have no choice. _

Memories, power- She slowly aimed it to spread through him, to break any lingering hold of the illness-

Then she let it go.

Energy rushed through the boy; the connection between them blazed as he sat up, gasping.

Deryne had just enough time to smile and register the shouts from the hall before everything went dark.

* * *

AN: Darn it all. Cliffie. I'm gonna have to write more now to find out what happens. ;D

I am very sorry about the pathetic updates. Let me get through June, and then I might even get two plus a week...

Reviews, please?


	24. Chapter 23: Intervention

AN: Hello! Look at me, still procrastinating! Thanks to all reviewers of the last two chapters: **Shang Leopard**, **dares to dream**, **SarahE7191**, **xxTunstall Chickxx**, **XxlemOnDrOpxX**, **Not telling you**, **Heiress of Lohaust**, and **Eternityfalls**. Also thanks to the people who reviewed anonymously. One of you has guessed the significance of the glass... (you'll find out that last part you aren't sure of soon enough)

* * *

_Chapter 23_

_Intervention_

_January 21, 478 H.E._

_"You_ stupid _human!" a familiar voice fumed. Deryne frowned, then moaned as a tremor ran through her. Pain snaked through her as she tried to move. As she gave up trying to sit up, it faded into a soft by insistent ache. _

He was dying, _she tried to say, but her lips did not obey her mind's command. The Chamber snorted in reply; apparently, it did not need to hear her words aloud. _

_"Well, if it is any comfort, he has not stopped bouncing off walls since _you _decided to force that bolt of energy through him." Deryne smiled. "Pleased, are we?" _

You sound upset. _Another, derisive snort. _

_"Upset?" The sardonic word had a nasty undertone lurking beneath it. "No, never. My charge can go kill herself, but I will remain calm!" _

I'm dead? _Deryne tried to open her eyes, but her eyelids were too heavy for her to lift. Panic shot through her, but exhaustion smothered it until she stopped struggling and sank into the soft mattress beneath her. _Chamber?

_"Not yet." Bitterness crept into the sarcastic voice. "No, first you'll have to suffer through the whole, wretched illness you saved your little friend from."_

The sickness?

_"You never thought about that, did you? Your healer friend was protecting the princeling from the effects of the blasted, mage-brewed disease, not you! So- though it had been _intended _to kill _him_- it leapt to you. _All _of it- every last, lingering trace of it!_

So I was right? It _was _an attempt on Leo, not the mage giving up on contaminating the capital?

_"Him and his mother," the Chamber grumbled. "The queen is on the mend. Stronger than Queen Lianne was." His voice rang through her ears; usually, she could only hear him in her head. _

Are you actually _talking _to me? Out _loud_?

"_It is easiest to speak directly to those furthest from the living. The healthy and strong are only connected to the higher powers within their minds; _you _are at the edge of worlds, now." A thought hit Deryne; hilarity pushed all tension in her body away. She would have laughed until she cried, if she could. _

Midwinter ceremonies should be starting soon. Yama's Festival-

_"Exactly! Of all times of the year to be risking your life, this is _not _it!" the voice snapped. _

So Irnai wasn't wrong-?

_"Gods blast you thoughtless beings into oblivion. Then I wouldn't have to deal with your prattling, inane minds." A soft growl sounded somewhere in the distance. "Of course she is not wrong… but doom can mean a great deal. If you give up your life because of a miserable date on the calendar, I will hunt you down in the realms of the dead and _then _you will know what the wrath of an old one truly is!" Darkness surrounded her… there was not a hint of light beyond her closed eyes…_

Old one? _Deryne yawned; her muscles wrenched, but her mouth still did not open. _I've been hearing a lot lately about- _Something hard pinched her ear; Duskwing's beak. _

_"Sleep while you can, bumbling fool, and hope I can summon help in time. You have a long ordeal ahead of you." _

Deryne felt herself slipping away into nothingness, slowly sinking as a pair of wings rustled, taking off in flight.

* * *

Pain. There was no escaping it, as she thrashed and struggled. Huddled in a ball of miserable flesh or eagle-spread, there was no relief. Sharp, prick-like jabs as she moved, as though her whole body had fallen asleep and now could not be wakened.

Deryne could not open her eyes yet, either, but sounds slowly filtered from around her and down into the murky darkness.

"She's still alive…."

"The longer she stays with us, the better a chance she has-"

"Alanna has done all she can, Neal-"

Pins and needles. Flashes of faces- memories. Hallucinations. Deryne knew that most visions were nightmarish, but for now they only replayed familiar scenes in her head: jousting, archery, writing for the Mithran priests-

Sword drills, bellowed in the pages' ears as they practiced, all lined up in a row that stretched on forever in Deryne's mind.

Hit. Hit. Block. Undercut. Side-sweep. Hit. Hit. Block-

And the _flying_. Racing the winds as they rushed into the forests and grazed the oceans- Through these hours- days, weeks?- Deryne struggled to pin down the exact sensation that would come and lift her from the agony for a little while.

The feel of air on her skin. Such a common-day touch, but one that was as impossible to describe as the feelings that ran through her mind.

Her parents. The pages. Rikash. Irnai. Sir Myles. Inar. Lady Alanna. Sir Alan. Lady Alianne. Merle. Brand. Cyne.

Deryne had not thought of the Islanders in some time. She wondered if she would ever see them again….

As her thoughts turned to them, the _gudruna _that carried her through nameless places and boundless seas sped across waves and clouds; she could have sworn she spotted a cluster of islands below before the clouds surrounded her again.

A sudden gust of air roared in her ear, as though a bird had flown straight past her…. It was a ghostly sound, there and gone before Deryne could turn. Then silence again. But it reminded her of Duskwing- the Chamber- as he raced away from her. She passed over the islands, arms spread out like wings.

As she looked back over her shoulder, snarling filled the air, roars from the unknown lands beneath her. Her heart started like a startled fawn, then pounded as she fell, through the white clouds as they faded into gray, then darkened even more-

She tumbled forwards, hands thrust up into her face as she plunged into the waves. And then there was nothing- no light, no warmth, no water.

And a face. There was no way to explain it; the face filled her mind, was everywhere she turned… but she could not pick out a single feature of it. His presence was overpowering, but veiled, almost as if her eyes could not take him in.

The man smiled at her, then patted her shoulder. Shivers ran up and down her spine; power fizzed through her. Puzzled, she tried to send out a sliver of magic to discern something- _anything_- about him, but he squeezed her hand and all of her Gift fell away, quivering.

"I'm sorry, but secrecy is utmost for now," he whispered. As quiet as it was, the voice struck Deryne with its playfulness and deadliness all in one soft hiss. "I should not be surprised that this happened, but it will set us back, further than I would have us. It may be a race to the finish line now, darling. Perhaps it is a good thing that you started us earlier." He was no longer talking to Deryne; there was someone else there, too. A woman.

"It's too soon for me to interfere," she murmured. "My power does not peak for days, my friend. We shall have to wait." They pulled away; Deryne sensed their withdrawal as acutely as though she had seen them turn their backs on her with her very own eyes.

"No! Don't-" But her grabs clung to thin air only, and she tumbled back into darkness.

* * *

The door to the library burst open; scowling, Rikash looked up from the desk he worked at. Cadel stuck his head into the room, then eased in. The page said only two words.

"Inar's back." Rikash stood, one hand on the book he had been reading.

"The king's lifted the quarantine, then?"

"A while ago. Where have _you _been?" The apprentice mage pointed at the floor.

"_Here_."

"Doing _what?_" Rikash glanced down at the desk.

"What most people do in a library: read." He closed the open book on the desk and turned it over.

"With a wit like that, you should give up the mage business and become a jester." The older boy muttered something under his breath.

"How's Deryne?" Cadel bit his lip.

"Uncle Neal says he doesn't want me in there, in case it's contagious."

"It isn't," Rikash replied darkly, walking towards Cadel after placing the heavy, leather-bound book on a stack of others. "It's making its last stand. It is going to die." He paused. "The question is whether it takes its last victim down with it." Cadel's dreamy hazel eyes blazed.

"Takes a cold heart and a calm head to talk like that, Ri." His friend pressed his lips together tightly as he stopped in front of the page.

"I'm strong and sensible, Cadel," he said, his voice grim and flat. "I like to accept _all _the possibilities before they happen. It's less of a shock later, that way." Cadel's eyes widened; his jaw dropped.

"How can you _talk _like that?" Cadel hissed. "No matter what stupid fight you two are in, you're her friend, aren't you?" Rikash blinked, then looked away.

"It's the only way I can think about it. The only way I can get used to the idea," he muttered. "Otherwise, I'll- I don't know what. Do something crazy, I guess. I'm already so close to- Never mind." Silence. Cadel struggled to find anything to say, anything to reassure Rikash. "I'm trying to get it into my head, now, so that when they tell us-"

"You think-" Cadel could not finish as his friend brushed past him. Rikash turned back, fists clenched. His amber eyes bore into Cadel's. Neither spoke for a long moment.

"Two days," Rikash whispered roughly. Cadel blinked; Rikash's voice was so different from what it had been a moment ago.

"Two days?" the page echoed. Rikash's eyes narrowed; his lips were taunt and white.

"Yama's Festival," he said in a quiet voice. "Or had you forgotten?" Then he strode down the hall without a parting glance at Cadel, his head held high.

Cadel's first impulse was to chase after his friend, but how could he? What would he say, after that? He had not forgotten; it had been brewing, somewhere in the back of his mind… but left alone. It was not something he could argue about with Rikash, not now. Instead, he wander over to the pile of books Rikash had been perusing.

_Fighting Death Magics: Illness and Curses._

_Yamani Devotions: Legends and Heroes Translated Into Common._

_Dream Interpretation: Messages from the Gods._

_Gates: An Ancient Study of Old Magics. _

Cadel knew that Rikash studied obsessively about anything that bothered him; maybe that was why he had been buried in here for months… Since the summer, Rikash had been even more withdrawn than usual... although how any of these books tied together, Cadel could hardly guess. The first one was easy, perhaps how Rikash knew that the sickness had its last foothold in Deryne.

But the others…?

He shrugged; Rikash was too worried for his own good. Too angry. The page knew that _he _would resort to smashing things if _he _was cooped up in this dusty prison all the time. How did all the books relate? He shook his head.

"I don't know how he does it," the boy murmured to the silent room. "Cramming all that information into his head at once…. I know _I_'d go mad. I really would."

* * *

"Have you seen her?" Rikash shook his head. Inar frowned. "Not at _all_?" As they walked down the hall, the other boy glanced down at his laced boots. The knot was coming undone; he bent down to fix it.

"What am I supposed to do? Torch her and finish off the job this damned mage started?" he snapped. Inar stared down at him.

"We bound your Gift. Remember?"

"So we'll both catch on fire instead? And since it isn't your Gift, you'll burn to a crisp?" Inar snorted.

"Stop fretting like an old fishwife, Salmalin."

"If I'm a fishwife, you're a damned harridan." When Inar refused to dignify the insult with a reply, Rikash continued, "I can hardly help it if I nearly killed my friends-"

"Your _strength _boiled over last year," Inar explained. "Technically, that's what we bound, not your actual Gifted… talent. I mean, the spell can tap into your Gift, too, but we're siphoning off power, not your Gift. _I _get the extra energy that overpowered your will. Now, that _strength _will come to me, _not _your Gift. So I might shatter a few vases if my Gift explodes from the power, but I won't burst into flames." He ran a hand through his hair. "Besides, I'll cast a spell or sommat- send it somewhere else, somewhere in the ground in a remote forest or desert. Just in case." Rikash scowled.

"You certain?" Inar smiled wryly at his friend's skepticism.

"Yes. Now, _go _and see her. Maybe it'll help."

* * *

They were trying to drown her again. Hands pushed her down, gripped her fingers tightly-

She screamed at them, calling for the man and the woman to come back and save her from this….

Every so often, she would feel as though she had almost pulled free of the darkness, that her mind and body had triumphed over the sickness. She would hear a voice, even see a face: one of her parents, Aunt Kel-

And then they would be gone again.

But now she was choking, beaten down-

Her eyes snapped open; Rikash and Cadel were looking down at her, each holding a hand. She had not seen her cousin in awhile…. And _Rikash-_

His hand was cool, which was funny to her delirious mind. He had once caught fire; now she was burning, so hot that even her explosive friend was a comfort.

Then his features melted away; the woman was back. Her black hair fell to shoulders, curling around her figure and down to her waist. She lifted a cold hand to Deryne's brow, frowning. She looked up at the sky. The room no longer had a ceiling in Deryne's mind; it opened up to the dark heavens, which glittered in the night. Darkness. She shivered.

"Almost," she whispered. "Friend, keep the parents away-" When the girl turned to see who was being addressed, there was mist obscuring the form. She thought she recognized the presence as a familiar shriek pierced the air, but the woman put a hand on Deryne's temples, forcing her to look into deep, dark eyes. "Watch," she whispered as flames danced in her pupils, which grew and grew in the page's sight until they were the only vision remaining.

White flames shot through Deryne, consuming her sight and body, only these did no harm. As they rushed across her body, they burned away the dark illness: its tight hold slackened- It clung to her fiercely, yanking her downwards, but the healing magic continued to work its way through her, weaving a cocoon of bright light around her. A voice rumbled through her bones, making her tremble and sweat as it chased away the agony.

"No intervention should be needed if there was no breach of nature's laws, set down by Father Universe and Mother Flame; nothing forbidden can be punished if done to save what has been guaranteed, if death could bind its victims- so take leave, for You cannot claim this one when the assailant should be in Your grip. When dust and ash rise, flesh and blood fall to the dungeons of Chaos; what Order lies in the Halls of Gods tumbles to earth as man summons ghosts-"

The voice rolled on and on, until Deryne realized she was waking. Waking without dizziness. Without sickness.

And the magic which had saved her swirled around one more time, then dissipated. The last thing she saw was the dark eyes of the woman, as they lightened to brown, then a soft orange-

Then she was looking into Rikash's eyes, shaking as the final whisper of her vision faded. He clenched her hand. Cadel peered down at her on the other side of the bed.

"Deryne?" A faint roaring grew in her ears; Deryne flinched as a final rush of power ran through her, sending her heart pounding and stomach churning.

Then, aware that both boys had yet to release their death grips on her arms, Deryne sat up and threw up over the side of the bed. Cadel shrank away; unfortunately for Rikash, he could do nothing but hold his friend, since she would fall off of the bed without his support.

A moment later, several adults dashed in, but Deryne could not spare them any notice until the upheaval stopped, and she could lie down again. Her parents, Kel, Alanna- Each seemed frazzled. Her father, in particular, was disheveled and ducked as her kestrel swept inside and perched on the bedpost.

"That blasted birdie," he declared, eyeing it distastefully. "Started attacking when we tried to come in-"

"The Chamber," Deryne muttered to herself as she recalled her vision. "Stalling-" For what? Maybe the woman- a goddess, for certain- could not heal her when her other relatives were present?

Ignoring the fearsome glare of the kestrel altogether, Deryne's mother crossed the room to embrace her daughter.

"Thank the gods," she murmured. As Deryne returned the embrace weakly, she saw the Lioness frowning at her friends.

"I thought we made it clear that _none _of you were allowed in," she said frostily, throwing a look at Cadel, who winced. "Get out. Now!"

"I'm better," Deryne tried to protest, but all that came out was a croak. She closed her eyes.

"And _she _won't be completely healed for awhile," Alanna's stern voice continued. "Does that mean I'll have to guard this door _myself _to keep you out?" The girl cleared her throat there one last question she wanted answered, before she slept again….

"What day is it?" she whispered in her mother's ear, unable to see the exchange of surprised looks from all corners of the room.

"Yama's Festival, dear," Yuki whispered finally, rubbing her child's back. "Now, go to sleep."

* * *

Inar wiped the sweat off his forehead as he worked on the Gate. He was down in the catacombs again, trying to vanish the extra power into the spell. Rikash had not been exaggerating; obviously, Inar had known that, but still! The strength of his Gift made it flare out in blinding flashes.

Rikash was probably with Deryne, but Inar was stuck trying to send this power _somewhere_. If they didn't get rid of it by the end of the night, it might explode again, regardless of what Inar had told Rikash. The Gate _should _contain the magic, but now that Inar felt the burn and itch of the power underneath his skin, he wondered.

His fingers drew a circle in the water over the Gate, tracing the pattern before the young man whispered a few words. Suddenly, the spell sucked all Rikash's power out of him; the black lines began to glow.

As Inar closed his eyes, he imagined a map of Tortall; he pictured the desert inside his mind. The heat, the dunes-

And then it was there before him, the sun burning his cheek. He reached out to the magic inside the Gate. There was a city, full of people, then emptiness, emptiness for miles…. In fact, the sandy void seemed to _lack _power, _lack _magic-

_There_, he willed, and a channel opened between the Gate and the void.

It was eager for magic; too dead for too long….

He waited all night, slowly pushing the power that Rikash gave him into the Gate…. At midnight, it flared, sending sparks down his arms and tingling in his head. Rushing filled his ears; a ghostly laughter sang all around him as he gathered up the terrible power. Then he thrust it all into the spell, sealed it off from him, and sent it to the void. The Gate gleamed white for a moment, then darkened. Gasping, Inar put his head in a hand and exhaled slowly.

All he had to do was that spell, once a year. No big deal.

* * *

It was a month of fussing from her mother, worrying from her father, and questions from the Lioness, Master Salmalin, and their numerous friends. An entire _month _of lying in bed. Some days, Deryne itched to get out of bed and into the training yard. Others, it was all she could do to move her eyes around the room. And every day she was in bed was that much time she lost in her page training. According to Cadel, haMinch had even mentioned the possibility of keeping her back a year. Deryne fumed at the thought of it, but her father and the Lioness had a rare agreement: she might be weakened from the sickness for months, years- possibly even the rest of her life.

"I _will _keep at this," she told her aunt one day. Kel was showing her niece arm exercises she could do in bed, so that she could work some of her muscles and not be caught by any of her other caretakers. "If it takes years- if I fall flat on my face in front of Owl Eyes a hundred times-" She lifted the weight and grimaced. It was tiny, only a few pounds, but her arms were already shaky. She had just started! Her aunt's face showed no emotion.

"Deryne-" She cleared her throat. "Haven't you wondered if maybe this is a warning? From the gods?" Deryne frowned.

"I _told _you; a god saved me. Maybe more than one." She still had not revealed the Chamber's possession of her kestrel to anyone yet. "They _want _me alive." Kel's eyes were very bright; the woman bit her lip.

"But maybe this is a sign…." She sighed heavily. "I don't know. I just know that none of us want to lose you. Your mother has appointed me to be the one to ask you- even encourage you- to give up." Deryne glared at her aunt.

"No. If those... gods... want me to give up, I think I'll know," she said, shooting a stare at Duskwing, who was preening. She rolled her eyes. "But now- I feel like they _don't _want me to stop, if they care at all about me. I _will _become a squire, and then a knight. And then I'm going to hunt down this wretch who brewed that sickness, and I will make him pay."

* * *

**AN: Reviews are very nice... I have finals in two weeks, so I'm thinking that I'll be taking a two week break... but then it's SUMMER and I will be typing out chappies as fast as they come to me... I want to FINISH Yama's Festival... end of the summer.  
**


	25. Chapter 24: Never Bodes Well

* * *

AN: I'M BAAAAAAACK!! Thanks to all reviewers- **Heiress of Lohaust**, **Eternityfalls**, **dares to dream**, **Shang Leopard**, **Cinnamint Kitty**, **xxTunstall Chickxx**, **EvilStrawberry**, **BACswimma**, **XxlEMmOnDrOpxX**, and beta (when I send those chappies) **KyrieofAccender**. I figure that this has been a very long wait- for you guys and me, so I'll be starting the next chappie tonight...

* * *

_Chapter Twenty Four_

_Never Bodes Well_

"If I can't even walk, how am I supposed to fight?" she snapped at Duskwing, hurling a pillow at the wall. The kestrel glared at her reproachfully, but there was no answer from the Chamber. "It figures. You bail out at the worst times." A small voice down inside reasoned she was being unreasonable and petty; the Chamber _had _saved Leo's life, by sending her down to the infirmary…. A soft groan escaped her lips as a wave of fatigue washed through her, seeping down into her very bones.

Even that small rant- after a day of wandering around the palace- was too exhausting; she sat down, intending to finish an etiquette essay, but her mind kept going back to her father, and how he had held out a cane for her yet again this morning.

"I'll rest if I have to," she had said, eyeing the crutch with a grimace. "But I won't lean on anything." Now she wondered if she was wrong to keep refusing it…. Maybe Kel was right, and she wasn't meant to be a knight- She put her hand down and closed her eyes. She needed to write the essay and finish the mathematics work the masters had assigned. They would not excuse her late work for much longer….

And then she woke. Groggy, she lifted her head up.

The candle on her desk was nearly gone; the wax had melted onto its holder. Deryne scowled; she _hated _waste. Moving her head to one side to get of the crick in her neck, she glanced around, flinching as bright sunlight poured through the window; she must have fallen asleep.

Alarmed, she leapt up, fighting the aches in her muscles from sleeping at her desk all night long.

She had class.

* * *

Her legs grew stronger quickly; it was only a couple of weeks before she was running with ease, albeit not very far. Her father had forbidden riding or sparring still, but he had never mentioned archery. Even though her arms ached and sometimes gave way without the slightest warning, Deryne snuck down to the courts practiced her archery as much as she could.

"At this rate, I'll be better at that than everything else," she told Leo ruefully. He grinned.

"Not jousting; you got tips from a master. Or mistress," he added thoughtfully. "Is a woman a master of something, or a mistress of it?" Deryne suppressed a grin, thinking of another definition for the latter word.

"You should ask Lady Alanna," she suggested innocently. "Or maybe not," she added hastily. Knowing Leo, he probably would.

"Did you know that Rikash is going off to the university?" he asked, changing subjects. Deryne frowned slightly; she _had _heard.

"I don't see why he has to, when he has the best teacher any apprentice can get." She took an arrow from Leo and notched it. "Of course, he must want a break from his father. I guess that would be a little too much for anyone." Then again, Rikash had never complained much before… when she actually _saw _him- when she was still of speaking terms with him. She released the arrow; it flew into the red center of the target. Satisfied, she put down the bow. She had exhausted her quiver. "Race you," she challenged, taking off before Leo could reply. A small "hey" escaped him, but Deryne could hear him gamely following. Grinning, she let him catch up and looked over at him. His face was red as he charged forwards.

Deryne's strides lengthened; her pace quickened. She let her arms fly out around her, savoring the rush as they ran towards the target. Her feet seemed lighter than dove feathers; she felt as though the air was helping her, picking up each foot and setting it down for her, ushering her along-

_She's sick, and she can do this-! _Hastily, Deryne blocked the _gudruna_ from her head; the last thing she wanted to do was invade Leo's mind. Still, she could not help but laugh at his consternation as she smacked the target and slowed down. Tiredness- which had been held at bay in her run- weighed down on her again, more than earlier.

"I'll pay for that tomorrow," she muttered, then turned to Leo, who shook his head, gasping for breath behind her.

"When they say you're the best-" he started, then tugged out an arrow. "Why is Lord haMinch thinking about holding you back?" Deryne looked down at her arms ruefully.

"I tire easily," she answered. "I can't spar or joust yet… if I got hit once, I could be out for awhile." Leo's eyes were serious.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. Deryne shrugged.

"Me, too," she replied, then grinned. "But not because I saved you, if that's preying on your mind." She clapped his shoulder. "I'm not too concerned. The worse that'll happen, I'll be in _your _class, next year. It's a win-win, either way."

* * *

"Careful," Numair cautioned as Deryne rose in the air. Her palms sweated, but she did not dare wipe them off on her breeches. If she lost her focus, it was a long fall to the hard floor below. Numair had an air cushion beneath her in case she could not control the spell, but Deryne was not reassured. If her power _did _get out of hand, it would probably send any air manipulative spells up in a gust….

Since Neal was adamantly against his daughter sparring, Numair could not test Deryne's Awareness, as he insisted on calling it. The mage had decided that in a year, Deryne could filter out her _gudruna _so that she could sense an attacker's motions and strike before they did. He would not be able to test her until the Chief Healer decided his precious child was well enough. Instead, he came up with another idea that Deryne loved: flying.

"I don't think I can go any higher," she called, trying to summon up more strength. Her Gift shuddered; she dropped a few inches. "I like doing this outside more." In order to levitate, Deryne needed her Gift to push her body upwards and continue moving the stale, stationary air in the room to keep her up. Outside, she could cheat. Breezes were much simpler to summon than to create. Deryne only had to pour a little Gift into them for the working in the fresh air. Her thoughts kept straying to the Swoop, and how she could have _soared _with the ocean gusts, up and down the coast…. Here, it was a struggle just to stay up.

"Which is why you have to do it here," Numair replied calmly. His dark eyes swept over her trembling body, gauging her strength. "Another few moments. Then lower yourself. _Slowly. _Very _slowly_. You'd be surprised how little is holding you up there."

"It feels like a lot," she muttered as she eased her Gift away. As her feet touched the air cushion Numair created, relief rushed through her. She ended the spell with a sigh, yelping as her misplaced foot sent her crashing into the cushion.

"Air legs?" Numair queried as he turned away. Pushing a stack of books to the side, he sat down at his desk. Deryne felt her way to the edge of the air cushion and sat on it. It bounced underneath her.

"Come again?"

"Do you have air legs? Like sea legs?"

"I didn't move or walk or anything," she answered, bouncing on the cushion. "Should I be walking? Or do I float around?" Numair leaned back, face absorbed.

"It would depend on how you think of it, I would think," he said in his thoughtful scholar voice. "Do you see the air in your mind as a platform that rises as you go up, or as a force that hoists you up and shifts as you do?"

"The second one," Deryne replied without thinking. "It's-" She tried to think of a word. "Just _air_, if you know what I mean. I move, it moves." Numair nodded.

"Then I believe you would float, and shift your weight and the air accordingly. For instance, if you sat in midair, or lay down, your Gift and the breezes holding you up would relax and condense to fit your new position." He frowned, looking up at the ceiling. "Of course, I don't know whether that would be easy, because either the spell around you is like a protective coating- a cocoon, if you will- that will change to hold you up in that space, or if it must be orchestrated precisely to your position, in which case-" Rolling her eyes once she knew he had retreated into his own little world, Deryne flopped back on the air cushion, flying back up into the air as she bounced across it. As Numair continued muttering, she stood up and flipped over onto her hands, using her Gift to brace her legs in midair as she took a few unsteady hand-steps. Then she rolled into a somersault, landing back on the edge of the air cushion. She grinned; her teacher was still talking to himself.

Then she felt the cushion dissolve underneath her; with a small shriek, she plunged downwards. An inch before the floor, the air solidified again and caught her. Heart pounding, she looked up at Numair, who was looking down at her, attempting to look severe but clearly amused.

"If you would desist? I am trying to help you," the man pointed out mildly. Deryne felt the cushion melt beneath her until she was sitting on the floor, legs sprawled.

"Sorry. It was a terrible distraction," she answered mournfully as she looked around. Finally, her eyes traveled back to Numair, and a mischievous smile spread across her face. "Fun, though." The mage broke out into a grin.

"Believe me, I know…," he said softly, pulling an enormous book off of a large stack and opening it to a marked page. The cover hit the desk with a loud _thud_. "You should get some rest, though, otherwise your father will come in here howling." Deryne grinned and stood as his gaze turned to the book.

"Yessir." Then she approached the desk. He did not look up. After a few minutes, she gave up on his powers of observation. "Anything new about that mage?"

"Hmm?" Numair looked up, bemused.

"Forgotten me already?" He blinked once, then seemed to remember who Deryne was and what she had asked.

"No," he answered, leaning back. "But I am working on that rune you gave us." He pointed to the book he had begun to peruse. When Deryne leaned over, she saw a page with at least ten different signs and illegible text scrawled beneath each. "This is the first edition," he sighed, then pointed to the rest of the stack. Each tome was the width of Deryne's palm. The girl counted eight of them and shuddered. "And… three more over there, somewhere," he said, waving a hand towards one of the shelves. "And it might not even be in them. There are older volumes I would have to translate to understand the meaning of the symbol… possibly the Gaelli texts. Their civilization was very well learned, and they were famous for compiling histories that were ancient in _their _times… without them, the beginnings of the world would have been lost to mankind's eyes." Deryne's brow furrowed.

"Beginnings of the world?" she asked, curious. Numair smiled.

"It sounds a _great _deal more interesting when you aren't translating dry, wordy language into another lost language, which can then be put into old Carthaki, into the Carthaki they use now, and _then _into Common. Not that I need that last step," he added. "And so much meaning gets lost in the translations. Even the pure Gaelli had been taken from even older writings, writings that no longer exist." He sighed wistfully. "To have a beginning… seers have had glimpses- perhaps if Irnai ever directed her powers… she might be the most powerful seer in centuries, perhaps longer." Then he looked back up at Deryne. "I am boring you, aren't I?"

"Only a little," Deryne laughed. She had known Numair more than long enough to be pert. "Remember to sleep."

"I won't, but Daine will make certain I do," he answered. "Rest your Gift. I'll see you next week." Deryne hesitated.

The goddess who had saved her was preying on her mind. The dark eyes as they faded to amber, blazing like a wildfire. Was she the god the Chamber had mentioned? No… but Deryne felt that the woman was important all the same.

"I… saw a goddess," she said slowly. "She healed me. When I was sick." Numair froze in the middle of turning a page. He looked up with a frown on his face.

"A crone?" he asked softly. Deryne shook her head.

"No. Why?" The mage sat back, running a hand through his hair.

"Rikash dreamt about one, according to my wife. Last Yama's Festival." Deryne was about to ask more, but Numair shook his head. "Who was she? Anything special?" The girl shrugged, wracking her mind for details.

"She healed me with white flame." Numair grimaced; clearly, that fact would not help him. "Black hair and dark eyes. I think-" At the last moment, Deryne kept her mouth shut about the Chamber inside of her kestrel. "She said something… something odd, about death, or something…." She shook her head. "I can't remember. But the first time I saw another man, with her." Numair's dark eyes narrowed.

"First time?" Quickly, Deryne outlined both dreams to her teacher. "A man and a woman. _Anything _at all that you recall?" The page bit her lip.

"She said that her power peaked in a few days. That they couldn't do anything until then-"

"And then they came back?" Numair's gaze was intent.

"She did."

"On Yama's Festival." It was not a question. After a moment of silence, he sighed. "Go on to bed, page. That's an order." Deryne bowed and left without a word.

The mage sat still in his chair for a very long time, his furrowed brow giving away his furious train of thought. Finally, he leaned back over the tome he had been reading.

"More than one god showing up in one time, one place," he muttered to himself, stroking his chin. "That never bodes well for anyone."

* * *

"I am surprised to see you here, Novice Salmalin," Master Hayward said as he strode quickly down the halls of the University. Rikash wondered how the man could see with his small, reading spectacles. "Terms do not begin until the fall."

"I thought it would be a good idea to explore and know where everything is before classes began," Rikash answered coolly. They passed the last of the classrooms before the dorms began; two novices were sending small propellants around the room at each other and deflecting them. A teacher watched with pursed lips.

"They are finishing the last of the exams," Hayward explained. "With your advanced lessons from your father, you obviously do not belong with those your own age."

_Clearly, _the boy thought, but managed to keep quiet.

"There are six official levels in the university. I believe you can skip to an assistants' rank, except that all students are required to be an apprentice for at least two years." He frowned thoughtfully. "The apprentice levels should be simple for you, but at least those students are only a few years older than you, and if your master agrees, you can be ranked as an assistant only a year later. For the talented son of Numair Salmalin, I think we can let you slide on the two-year rule." Rikash smiled, because he guessed that Hayward needed reassurance that he was still listening. Inside, he grimaced. Did the man even know his first name? Salmalin, Numair's son, the black robe's protégée- "Apprentices serve an appointed master, and usually assistants will continue on with that man or woman until you pass the final exams for a certified mage. As an apprentice, you will run errands and maybe help with whatever experiments your master is working on. When you become an assistant to that mage, you will do all the tedious work and notes for those same experiments and even help with the beginner classes."

"Assuming I want to quit?" Rikash asked. Hayward frowned.

"I doubt you will- the work will not be difficult for you, I would think." Rikash's patience cracked; he locked eyes with the master.

"In case I find it cannot help me in any way," he answered, voice as polite as he could make it. It was the voice he used to mock snobs in court. "In case I find it… inadequate." Hayward blinked; for a short moment, Rikash felt sorry.

"I- yes, your father mentioned your unusual Gift. We have many expert masters, some of whom are theorists, who are exactly who you need, I believe." _I believe. It might be. I should think so. _How many times had the man used them? Rikash had only arrived an hour ago, and he already despised the head of the University!

"This can't bode well," he muttered under his breath.

"Sorry?" He shook his head. Hayward went on. "Well, it may be that you are right, and it would be best for you to study with your father-" They stopped in front of a double door with the inscription _Novices_ above it. "There are already too many in the apprentice dorm; this will suit you fine, I think." Rikash smiled a razor-sharp smile. "You will have to fetch your bags, I fear." He gestured down the hall. "I can help you find your way back-"

"No!" Rikash said quickly, hand on the door handle. "I- I'd like to see the dorm first, and maybe exploring on my own would be good. I can remember the way pretty well-" Actually, he had been more interested in the classes than the maze of passageways. Still, the University was not too old; most of the hallways were simply laid out. Hayward's face fell.

_Doesn't he have better things to do than follow a student around all day? _Rikash thought irritably. Then again, the sons of the black robe mage of Tortall weren't always coming to the University….

"I suppose that makes sense," he said, handing Rikash a key. "Your room is to the right, I believe." He cleared his throat as the boy turned to make his escape. "If you _do _need anything, anything at all, you should know that I will gladly assist you. Anything at all-"

"Good to know," Rikash said through gritted teeth, smiling as he ducked into the dorms. "Why didn't I agree to an alias again?" he grumbled as he tugged the door shut behind him and looked down the passageway with curiosity. Several doors were open; Rikash could see bare rooms with three or four beds in them. Names were scrawled in chalk on the boards next to each doorway. Everyone had gone home for the summer, then. The youth wandered down until he found his own name. He unlocked the door and wandered in.

One bed had a trunk next to it; apparently someone else was there for the summer, too…. Rikash glanced over at the neatly packed belongings in the open trunk; a shirt and a pair of pants were on top. Seeing the neat, tiny pattern weaved into the hem of the shirt, he could guess his roommate was wealthy. A noble or rich merchant's son. He could not decide which would be a worse friend, all dandified and perfumed-

"This seems to be the room for the misfits then, eh?" Rikash's scowl deepened as he heard the voice. When he turned, there was a young man leaning up against the door. "Rikash Salmalin? The servants have been chattering away about the black robe's son for hours." Rikash quirked an eyebrow at the casually dressed man. "I'll be your roommate for the next few years, so we might as well get acquainted. The name's Malvyn. Hadrian Malvyn." Rikash stared hard at his companion, trying to guess his age.

_Either an Assistant or someone higher… and they put him in here? That would explain the misfit quote, at least. _He was taller than Rikash, and wider, too. His face showed no hint of youthful, un-proportionate features- which meant he had grown into his looks already. He had to be in his earlier twenties, at least.

"Well, then we'll have all the time in the world to 'get acquainted' later," Rikash muttered. He had not expected to be forced to deal with another student yet, and the prospect of being social irritated him.

"Ah… but then there would be less time for more interesting things," Malvyn retorted. Deciding to humor the other student for a little while, Rikash crossed his arms and sat on his blanket-less bed.

"Such as?" Malvyn shrugged.

"You want to explore the city? I've been here for a year or so, even though I was not accepted into the University until a few weeks ago." Malvyn's blue eyes sized up Rikash. "It's a good time. Makes you tough. Experience is sommat you want on your side."

"Me in particular?" Rikash muttered, annoyed. The young man's gaze did not waver.

"If what I've heard is right, you could be the next King's Mage. In which case, the more people and places you know, the better." In spite of himself, Rikash felt a warm burst of pride. He glared at Malvyn.

"Says who?" He shrugged.

"Everybody knows you've got what it takes." Rikash smirked.

"Out of whack fires exploding all over the place? That's what you want?" Malvyn's eyes narrowed.

"So it's true?" He stood up straight, making the other student even more aware of his height. "It must take some bit of power to do that."

"It does," Rikash replied sullenly. "I need to retrieve my belongings now." The boy headed for the door.

"Stronger than your father?" he asked as Rikash passed him. He stopped.

"What?" Malvyn's brow was knit, his mouth curled into a thoughtful frown. The man was staring down at the floor, as though trying to glare an answer out of it.

"Are you stronger than your father?" Rikash blinked; stronger, than _his _father? Stronger than Numair Salmalin, the great mage of the century? Stronger than the black robe?

"I… don't know." His head whirled with memories of snapped bindings and fires that his father could not contain….

Could that be why his father couldn't bind his Gift? _Could _he be stronger? Did his father suspect it? Could that be why Numair Salmalin refused to test his son's Gift?

Yama's Festival… his Gift… it was all a puzzle, one his father could not unravel…. Did that mean Rikash could not rely on Numair Salmalin to save him? Not to rely on his father to find the answers to every threat lurking over him?

Mind muddled, Rikash locked gazes with as the young man looked up. There was a crooked smile on his companion's face as he clapped the younger boy on the shoulder. His blue eyes gleamed with an excitement that Rikash felt in his own bones.

"I think you are," he whispered.

* * *

Dun-dun-dah! Review, please? I'm sorry for the wait... you'll forgive me... right? ;D

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	26. Chapter 25: Talks

AN: Here I am, after a few obstacles... This is a long chappie... Thanks to **BACswimma**, **Shang Leopard**, **KyrieofAccender**, **Evilstrawberry**, **XxlEmOnDrOpxX**, **twilightm00n**, **emilybeesknees**, **Dante Inferno**, and **xxTunstall Chickxx**. And betaing was appreciated, Kyr. Keep reviewing and checking up- reviews are always very encouraging! ;D

* * *

_Chapter Twenty Five _

_Talks_

_June 26, 478 H.E._

Knights intending to find a squire for the next four years always came around this time of year, but this year was the first year Deryne noticed them, mainly because several of her friends would be going off with them by the end of the summer. Despite her exhaustion at the end of the day, she always summoned up enough energy to follow Cadel and Laun around as they found out who was considering them as squires. They spoke to stable hands, chamberlains, laundry maids- anyone who might have caught a word or two.

"I hear Prince Liam is looking for a squire," Evrain said one day when their group met after jousting practice. HaMinch had just dismissed them, and told them to feel free to work during the summer with a glare at Deryne. She still had not been cleared to joust, although her father permitted sparring, and- unless she was fit by midsummer- she would be forced to stay back a year. It had been a hot, hard last session for the year; each page dripped with sweat as the humid air pressed down on them. Leo frowned.

"I don't think so," he said slowly. The big redhead raised his eyebrows.

"You doubt it? I heard it from a herald, for Mithros's sake." Mequen snorted. Deryne exchanged an amused glance with Cadel before putting a hand on Leo's shoulder.

"A herald… or the prince's nephew?" she queried. "I think I'll go with His Highness's word, here."

"You're just getting your hopes up. No prince is going to inquire after our sorry lot," Laun said, wiping the sweat off his brow with his shirt sleeve. "I already know who mine is going to be. My father won't let me say a word against it."

"Who?" Aloin asked. Laun grimaced.

"Lord Charles of Morris." Deryne winced; she remembered the man from a certain party, where he had refused to let her serve him.

"Ow." Evrain patted his friend on the back. "My prayers go with you, mate." Deryne glanced around; there were several men milling around on the edges of the training courts.

"What if you impressed one of the knights over there?" she asked Laun. "If they requested you, and you told your father you've already accepted another invitation, your father could hardly do anything about it, could he?" The boy smiled ruefully and leaned up against the fence.

"Thanks for the suggestion," he replied dourly. "But it's done. I just hope that you lot have better luck." Deryne looked over again.

"You lot want to have another go at the targets?" She jerked her head back at the jousting lanes. Evrain groaned loudly and began to complain, but the two newly made squires nodded. Mequen mounted his horse again as Aloin shook his head.

"Can I try?" Leo asked, eyes agleam. Amidst protests from Cadel and the others, he looked at Deryne. He seemed to answer to his sponsor more than the other boys. Deryne hesitated, watching his bright eyes. First year pages were allowed to watch only, but officially, Leo had finished his first year as a page…. She grinned.

"Leo, take Aloin's horse." The boys stared at her, aghast. Since when did Deryne condone such behavior? Then she turned to Evrain, smirking. "Ev, give me your horse."

"No, you don't!" Cadel exclaimed as Leo gleefully snatched reins from Aloin's hand. "Deryne, if your father catches you-!"

"I need the practice, Cadel," Deryne replied, steel in her voice. "And how am I supposed to get it if I'm placed with the invalids for the rest of my life?" Cadel shook his head, muttering something underneath his breath as she took Evrain's horse.

"I'm all for it, Deryne," the huge red-haired squire said. "I just don't want you getting hurt, or in trouble."

"You're one to talk about trouble," she muttered, pulling herself up onto the mare and frowning. She was a lot higher up than she remembered.

"Me?" Evrain asked, grinning. "You forget your place, page." Deryne rolled her eyes.

"Just because Owl Eyes lets you escape palace life doesn't suddenly give you a shield to strut around with. It just means _he_ was sick of your sorry face and _had _to get rid of you." Aloin snickered; Cadel and Mequen suppressed grins. Evrain sighed loudly.

"I admit, I _will _miss your snark on those long, dreary trudges behind my knight master when I go the year after this one," Evrain proclaimed, arms spread. Deryne kicked him in the stomach just hard enough to make him double over.

"Lance," she ordered, waving a hand over at the stack leaning against the fence. Evrain winked.

"Yes, ma'am." He headed for the pile, but when Deryne turned, Mequen was offering her one. Behind him, Laun steadied the heavy wooden pole. The girl smiled at both, then hefted the lance. Her arm trembled, but she was able to keep it level. She turned to speak to Leo.

"Ready-" She stopped when she saw she was addressing empty space, then looked around. The first year was already at the lanes. Deryne rolled her eyes as he urged the horse forwards, sighed as his lance barely skimmed the shield, and winced as he got walloped with the sandbag. She shook her head. "That boy is a liability," she muttered, then turned her mount around. "I probably won't do much better."

She avoided any hits from the sandbag, but her hits were off, sliding when the lance connected with the shield.

"Your grip is slipping," Laun noted as Deryne came around for another go.

"I know that," she told him, frowning. "My grip isn't strong enough- I'll have to work on that…." Cadel- who had also been tilting- dismounted and stepped in front of her horse as she lined up to charge again.

"You've gone six times," he stated, grabbing the reins. "And you aren't cleared to do _one_, Deryne. You haven't gotten any worse from not practicing- you determined that you need to strengthen your grip. So do _that _before you're hauled up to your father for another injury!" Deryne glowered at her cousin for a moment, then made a face.

"Easy for you to say, Broakhale," she said dryly. "You'll have plenty of knights fighting over the honor of having _you _as a squire. Here I am, with haMinch considering holding me back!" Her aunt had had a probationary year… but not a whole year extra as a page! Cadel shrugged.

"Nobody's approached me yet," he admitted, shuffling his foot in the dust. "I-"

"Cadel!" All the pages looked up to see a lithe, bright-eyed girl running towards them. Deryne smiled as Vanora of Broakhale dashed through the group of boys to hug her brother. Reddening, he returned the embrace and looked up at Deryne, who laughed. She had not seen the girl in a very long time, but it did not seem like she had changed. "Ma wouldn't let me talk to you until today- I was away at Midwinter. Did she tell you?"

"Lady Geneia invited you to Imrah. Of course she told me." Cadel tugged himself away, then gestured to his little sister. "This is Vanora, my sister." The girl smiled as introductions were made, then tugged on Deryne's foot. Obeying the silent command, Deryne climbed off of the horse and gave the mare back to Evrain.

"Da told me that Uncle Neal wasn't letting you ride yet." Deryne grinned.

"Yup… so it's our secret, all right?" Vanora nodded. Her hair was darker than Cadel's, and always curled from neglect. The girl was always dashing madly about, busy with some escapade, even though she was not as destructive as Deryne and her friends had been. Vanora preferred spying on debutantes as opposed to sticking frogs in their beds, and liked formal balls and glaive practice in equal measure. "I have not seen you in awhile, Nora- how are you?" Amused, she noted the puzzled interest in her friends' eyes; they had probably never know about Vanora, or her younger sister Cor, either. The younger girl's eyes gleamed.

"I miss you so much, Deryne!" she exclaimed. "Did you know that I'm ten now? I could be a page, Ma said!" Deryne's eyes narrowed slightly; she glanced up at Cadel, who was looking the other way.

"Is that so?" she mused, still eyeing Cadel. Vanora had never struck her as the type of girl to be a page; a Rider, _maybe_. But Vanora of Broakhale a knight? Deryne looked back down at her little cousin. _Little _was the key word; surely even Alanna the Lioness had not been dainty? Vanora's blue eyes sparkled as she nodded. Deryne suppressed a frown. "Cadel? I need to have a little chat before you leave, all right?" Her cousin nodded, his gaze still fixed on the fence post.

Deryne had a bad feeling about this.

* * *

"Does she want it?" Cadel exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "D'you want me to answer honestly?"

"No, I want you to lie," Deryne relied wryly, cuffing him on the shoulder. "Yes, Cadel, of course I want you to tell me to the best of your ability." He grimaced.

"I don't know, Deryne, but I feel like she doesn't." Both of them turned to glance back at Vanora, who was sitting next to Leo as Evrain and Aloin sparred for them. She was laughing at something that the prince had said. "I mean, you know Vanora."

"She's more of a courtier than our parents and us lot combined," Deryne muttered, shaking her head. "She'd rather fake a smile and a laugh than let anyone know that she's unhappy. I know I'd probably feel pressured, if my ma was a lady knight-"

"And I can't see her with the boys." Cadel gritted his teeth. "I mean, can you picture her getting knocked off her horse and the punishment duties from haMinch and all the opposition-" Deryne shook her head. "And she wouldn't tell me or Ma or Da, of course- certainly not Ma. Not if she feels she must be a knight-" The page winced as Cadel grabbed her arm. "Deryne, I _need _you to do something for me." His hazel eyes bore into hers as their gazes locked. "_Talk _to her, and make sure she wants this. This isn't even just about her- it's about girls becoming knights, Deryne." He made a face. "I love my sister, and I think she would be sent home in a few weeks. Can't you see what that would do to the cause? Conservatives would crow and use her as an example, even if plenty of boys leave the palace for the same reasons!" Deryne bit her lip.

"I wouldn't tell her no if she wants to," she told her cousin. Cadel frowned.

"But I doubt it, Deryne. If she says she wants to, it would be because she doesn't want to let my family down, or whatever ridiculous notion she has in her head!" He sighed. "Please, Deryne? I couldn't bear it, if Nora was hurt like that." Deryne blinked once, then gripped his arm in reply.

"She's your little sister, but you can't protect her forever," she reminded him, smiling. Before he could speak, she nodded. "We'll talk. I promise."

* * *

Vanora leapt up the moment that Deryne gestured her over. The older girl noticed how Aloin and Leo waved goodbye and chuckled to herself; Vanora had a talent for enchanting people with her smile and occasionally peculiar notions.

"Can we go to the stables? Which horse is yours?" Deryne smiled wryly, scrutinizing her young cousin.

"Zephyr. Picky as anything and balks in a storm. I hope you do better when you pick out yours." The page was rewarded with a slight frown from Vanora before the girl smiled.

"I'll pick mine first; I won't let anybody beat me to the stables."

"What if haMinch makes you wait, 'cause you're a girl?" Vanora scowled and put her hands on her hips.

"Then that's not very fair, is it?"

"What if some of the older pages hold you back?"

"You wouldn't let them." Deryne had to smile at that.

"You're right." The two girls walked on a little further. "Aunt Kel wouldn't be upset if you weren't a page, in case you were wondering." Vanora blinked, then looked up at Deryne before recovering. She shrugged.

"How would you know?" Deryne smiled with relief; Vanora was buying into it.

"Because I know your ma. If you thought about it for a moment, you would agree with me." The small girl was quiet as they wandered on, her limbs like willow branches in the wind.

"You don't think I can do it?" Her voice was suspiciously calm and slow. "You think I'm too small? Too weak? I've practiced with the glaive with Cadel since we were little."

"I know," Deryne replied, mind working fast. "But I don't think _you _want to. Or you wouldn't if it weren't for Aunt Kel." Vanora was silent. "Page work- squire and knight work too, of course- is hard. Nothing glamorous, no dresses and parties, unless you're serving at them. Nora, I can't see you abandoning the glaive… but I can't see you in the pages, either. Maybe you can be one of the queen's ladies, sometime in the future…." She let her words trail off. "I feel like you'd be wasting your skills, as a knight."

"Or that I don't have the skills to become one?" They entered the stables; Deryne groaned.

"Nora…." The girl dashed ahead.

"I don't feel like looking at the horses," she muttered. Deryne cursed under her breath.

"Sweetie, look-" Deryne jogged to catch up to her cousin and slung an arm around her. "I feel like you aren't cut out to be a knight, yes. But not because you're small… not if you _really _wanted to try." Vanora still would not look at her. "I guess if that's what you wanted, that you could do it, somehow, even if you are a little bird." Deryne had to smile as she spoke those last few words. "Nora, come on. Complain, for once." She gave a little laugh. "Be radical; be selfish." Vanora grumbled something under her breath. "What was that?"

"And you don't think my ma would think I was-"

"Vanora, your mother will not start hating you if you wanted to be a lady. Maybe she'll be surprised, be a little disappointed that you don't want to follow her steps, but she would certainly not want you unhappy. And just because you want to be presented at court doesn't mean you have to be boring, or a push-over, or anything conservative and-"

"Who said anything about court?" Vanora demanded, alarmed. Deryne grinned.

"You don't think I've seen you rummaging through my ma's gowns? Aunt Kel doesn't have a lot, but I still remember those days when we would dress up-" She patted the girl on the back. "Whatever you want, do it, Nora. That's what your ma will really want."

* * *

"So is your cousin going to join us?" Leo asked as he, Deryne, and Aloin wandered down the hall. Deryne sighed.

"I don't think so."

"Oh." Leo looked out the window. "You know, I wish we could go back down to the training courts." Deryne raised an eyebrow, eyeing the gold trimmed, silk tunic the prince was wearing.

"Then go change out of that finery and meet us down there!" Aloin exclaimed, echoing her thoughts. Leo made a face.

"I can't. My uncles Liam and Jasson are here, for once. And somehow Aunt Lianne has managed to visit, too. Sometime this week my father is having a ball, but our family is getting together this afternoon. We wouldn't have enough time to do anything down there before I would have to come back." Deryne rolled her eyes.

"Do you know who's invited to this ball, Leo?"

"Your parents will be, so I suppose that it can be extended to you. I would be bored, if none of you were there…." Deryne grinned.

"Don't worry; we won't leave you to the wolves."

"Deryne!" All three pages looked up in time to see Cadel dashing down the passageway, face flushed. He stopped in front of them, gasping with gleaming eyes. "Aloin, Leo- you'll never guess, who asked me to be his squire-"

"Who?" his friends chorused as one. Grinning, Cadel looked at Leo.

"Your uncle, Leo! Prince Jasson!" Deryne blinked.

"His Highness, Jasson of Conté?" Aloin yelped. "As in, the knighted prince who _never _comes to court?"

"Well, he's here _now_," Deryne pointed out, still trying to process the news. She only knew the name; she had never even seen the man. Laughing, Cadel grabbed her and spun around. "That's- Cadel, how much do you know about him, anyway?" Instantly, both turned to Leo, who shrugged.

"He's trained with the Shang," the prince mumbled, clearly uncomfortable with the scrutiny. "And sometimes he works with the Own-" Cadel's grin grew even larger.

"Work with Uncle Raoul, too? And my ma does, too-"

"But it's true, that my uncle doesn't come home a lot," Leo agreed. "We might not see you until your Ordeal, Cadel. He prefers to stay as far away from Corus and those who'd recognize him as he can. Sometimes he even goes into Galla, or Maren."

"But you couldn't have a better swords master!' Aloin breathed. "I saw him fight once-" Leo slunk down and glared over at a tapestry on the other side of the hall. "The Lioness couldn't have been faster!"

"Oh, she was," the prince muttered. Curious, Deryne shot him a look. "Even in her 'old age' as they say… she knocked him flat on his back. And he isn't ashamed of it- he tells that story whenever he gets the chance." He cleared his throat and continued to walk. "He's been as far as she's been. Further, even. The Lioness had to give up her world traveling to serve as King's Champion." Cadel's eyes shone.

"The Roof of the World?" Leo gave the older boy a smile that Deryne knew wasn't a Leo-smile. It had a edge to it that she had never seen in the boy before. The prince's jaw flexed as though he was gritting his teeth. "Further, Cadel."

"He'll have tales to share at night," the squire crowed, too excited to pick up on his young friend's odd mood. Even Aloin was eyeing Leo with a puzzled frown on his face. Deryne put a hand on the blond's arm when he opened his mouth.

"Stow it, Straw-head," she hissed. Then she allowed herself a tiny moment of amusement as Aloin glared at her, affronted. No one had called him that in a long while. "That's amazing, Cadel. It really is." She grinned. "And we'll be rid of you for four years, too." Her cousin smiled.

"Anything to please you." Then he glanced down the hall. "Where's everyone else, huh? I want to share the good news."

* * *

"You aren't afraid, are you?" Malvyn stared at Rikash in absolute disbelief. "No _way_. I didn't think-" The other boy glowered.

"I'm not about to turn tail on trouble, but don't think I'm a fool, either." He jerked his head over at the sign in front of the tavern. The bright light spilling out of it only showed how many rogues were packed inside that night, from the small, ratty pickpockets to the brutish cutthroats. "The Leaping Leopard? You looking for problems? 'Cause, believe me, you've got enough without looking for more." Malvyn grinned at the jab, then stuck his hands in his pockets.

"Fair enough, Salmalin. Your call, mate. What do you want to do, then? I know a street gang that does pockets only. No cutthroats there. Wanna try your hand at it?" When Rikash scowled, his friend shook his head. "Only the rich, mage's boy. Or is it stealing from that lot that bothers you the most?"

"I don't need any money," Rikash retorted icily. Malvyn rolled his eyes.

"Just watch me, all right?" Rikash glared, but the other youth just laughed. "C'mon- keep an eye out for me, otherwise I'll drag you into it if I get caught." Then he was off, weaving through the crowd. Rikash swore, instinct sending him off after Malvyn.

"Damn you to the darkest corners of the Black God's realm," he muttered underneath his breath, but he watched intently as Malvyn slipped past a well-dressed man not much older than them who was shouting at a woman holding a small, dirty child.

"Keep an eye on that grubby-handed brat!" he snarled. The woman clung to the small boy. "See if slavers don't snatch him up for asking from the wrong person!"

"Sorry- so sorry-" The woman babbled, but even as Rikash's fingers itched to send a fireball after the offender, he glanced at Malvyn. The youth barely skimmed the man's cloak, but Rikash could see the quick hands tug at the edge of his target's tunic. The man instantly whipped around to be faced by a polite-faced young man who looked just as well off as himself. He glowered into Malvyn's face.

"What do _you _want?" he snapped. Malvyn raised an eyebrow.

"_Sorry_," he said with raised eyebrows. He raised his hands up in the air. "I was just trying to give the child sommat." He smiled, leaning past the red-faced man. Rikash noted how Malvyn's fingers snaked into the man's purse as the victim sputtered. "Remember me?" Malvyn put a hand on the child's head and ruffled his hair as the little boy nodded. "I promised him that I'd pay for his help a few days ago," he said to the worried mother. Then he pressed a coin into the boy's hands and grinned. "Good day t' you, ma'am." Then he turned his back on the puzzled group and strode back to Rikash. Bewildered, the boy looked back at the smiling woman as Malvyn grabbed him by the arm and hauled him off through the crowd. The pair hustled through the jostling, shouting crowd.

"What-"

"Merchant scum," his friend muttered, shaking his head. "They're worse than nobles. Grubby-handed, indeed. The filthy-" He inhaled slowly, then grinned. "Ready for your first lesson, mage boy?"

* * *

"Leo!" The young prince glanced over his shoulder once, then took off in the opposite direction through the stuffy nobles who looked down their noses at Deryne. Smoothing her skirts, the girl shook her head and grumbled several curses as she pursued her quarry. There had been no disapproving heralds to prevent either her or any of her friends from entering the official party thrown in honor of King Roald's brothers and sister, so all of them were meandering about, keeping an eye peeled for Cadel's new knight master. But Deryne was rallying for a chat with her spons-ee. "Why do the girls always get landed with the heart to heart talks?" Deryne muttered under her breath. "And why must I be the only girl available for sitting these kids down-?" Vanora was probably a little upset with her still; that would account for the fact that the rarely-present cousin was now making herself scarce. And Leo had _something _churning in the back of his mind. Deryne just hoped it would not lead to any estrangements.

She had lost him. Frowning, she looked about the room. Leo's siblings all stood together: Akeno, Mariel, Eva, Kei- all four of them. But where was the heir of the throne?

Deryne spun around once more, then groaned as she caught sight of the boy.

"Clever, gods-damned lad," she murmured with a rueful laugh. Then she smirked; she could wait a little longer. After all, he might elude her for a little while, but speaking with Lord Charles of Morris was a heavy price to pay for that borrowed time. She leaned with against the wall several feet away, letting her gaze travel across the floor. There were many faces, many of whom she did not recognize….

There was a man speaking with Leo's sister Mariel now. Tall, dark-haired, swarthy- certainly a Conte. It had to be Prince Jasson; Deryne knew that the long, hard face was not Prince Liam's. She leaned forwards, studying the man.

"What do you think of my knight master?" Deryne jumped, then whipped around to see Cadel at her side. He grinned. "Worthy enough?" The page turned back to watch the prince; his stern face was alight with a grin. He was laughing with his niece about something. Deryne felt her lips soften into a small smile.

"I think so, Cadel." He laughed.

"Good." Then he tugged her away.

"Hey! I need to talk to Leo-"

"He'll be here all night," her cousin replied steadily. "But after I talk to you, I'm leaving. I have an early morning tomorrow-" Deryne frowned.

"Why not right here? Then we can both grab Leo when he's decided he'd rather face me than His Stuffiness-" Cadel sighed.

"Because too many people sitting there glaring at you, waiting for _something _to go wrong. So-" As they approached the balcony and the flirting debutantes and their beaus, Cadel grabbed Deryne by the wrist and hauled her out into the night. The page grimaced at the couples around them. "They won't do anything too embarrassing, Deryne." He sat down on the steps into the gardens and yanked her down to sit with him. "You look nicer than usual, by the way." Deryne snorted.

"There's too many conservatives to fight. Why not appease them once in awhile? Besides, it would make Nora happy." Cadel smiled.

"I wanted to thank you for that. She's told Ma that she wants to- she's not sure yet, but becoming a page isn't calling out to her like she thought it should."

"And Aunt Kel said?" Deryne pressed. Despite her advice and assurances, the idea of the daughter of the Protector of the Small announcing her aversion to knighthood-

"She was relieved, I think," Cadel admitted with a small smile. "You know how you trained with her? You were so devoted, bothered her every time she was home, did what she asked- and Nora knew her ma could do the same for her, and my sister never made a move to do anything. So Ma already knew that she didn't have enough- I dunno, _intensity_- to do it." Deryne sighed.

"We should've known," she said ruefully, shaking her head. "I haven't seen Nora since then."

"She'll be back." Cadel cleared his throat, his gaze dropping. "especially once I'm not there to trouble." Deryne frowned, then gasped. Her crystalline gray eyes grew huge as she remembered what her cousin had said about leaving the party early.

"You're leaving tomorrow." Her brow furrowed. "But- but the prince-" Cadel nodded as he stared out at the gardens.

"He's already feeling antsy, he told me. He usually doesn't even stay this long." Deryne frowned.

"How long _has _he been here?" Cadel shrugged.

"Asked me to be his squire a few days ago. He was probably watching me a few days before that." He hesitated for a moment. "I think that somebody- someone _high _up- told him about me, so he wasn't even scouting for a squire. He already had me in mind when he arrived." Deryne raised an eyebrow at the significance Cadel put on _high_.

"You don't get much higher up than those connections you- _we­ _have," she reminded him as they locked gazes. "King's mage, the Wildmage, the head healer, the head of the Own- to mention the closest. But we aren't that far from the king himself, or the Lioness-" She gasped as something flickered in his eyes. She leaned in. "_No,_" she breathed incredulously. "You think the _Lioness _told the prince to take you?" To have the _Lioness _take a special interest in him meant-

Deryne could not even guess what it meant, but it was _important_. She laughed softly and leaned back on her elbows again.

"Wow," she whispered, a shaky smile on her face. "She must be really impressed by you, then." Cadel bit his lip.

"I don't know what to think," he admitted quietly. "And Deryne, I-" Deryne was surprised when he held a hand out to her, like he used to when they were little. She took it silently and squeezed reassuringly. "It's so far," he whispered. "I probably _won't _see you lot until my Ordeal. His Highness told me to expect so. I mean-" He looked up, his eyes gleaming. "We're going to _Carthak_, Deryne. And then further and further south. It might be two years of straight, hard riding to wherever he wants, and then a race to get back here in time for my Ordeal. He even told me not to be surprised if we get back late, and I have to wait a _year _more for my knighting, Deryne." She did not know what to say; words just kept spilling from Cadel's mouth. "And I won't see you or any of our friends or family and-" He inhaled sharply and closed his hazel eyes for a long moment. They sat in silence for a long moment.

"You're excited, Cadel," Deryne said gently, still holding his hand. "And that's _good_. You'll come back and hardly remember us, you'll have seen so much!" Cadel snorted.

"Like that could happen." Encouraged, Deryne went on.

"And Prince Jasson can teach you so much! Think of all he's done! I bet you'll come back with more experience than knights older than us! So_ much _more, Cadel!" She paused to take a breath. "I personally am not very envious, but this could be the beginning of something big, Broakhale." She cleared her throat. "You with your swordsmanship. You'll be a strong arm for the throne when you get back." Cadel shook his head.

"I doubt it," he said ruefully.

"If anyone is destined for greatness among us lot, I think the one who gets to travel the world has an edge," she remarked, patting him on the shoulder. "I've got faith in you, Cadel." He smiled.

"I'm glad you do." Then he leaned over and pulled her into a hug, which she returned. "I'll need that, with all the hard nights ahead."

"Yup," Deryne agreed cheerfully. "Get used to the ground, squire. His Highness doesn't look like the type to spend much time in inns." Cadel groaned.

"Just promise to hold down the fort here while I'm gone," he muttered in her ear. "Between you and Meq, order must be preserved. Things could get a little crazy without me here to watch out for you lot. Between Ev, Leo, and Al, I shudder to think-" Then he kissed her on the cheek and stood. Deryne rose, too, still holding his hand. "Goddess and Mithros bless," he told her, then grimaced. "Say goodbye to Leo for me? The morning will be easier without farewells." A little laugh escaped the girl.

"You think Leo won't hunt you down?" Cadel smiled, his eyes burning into Deryne's as he squeezed her hand tightly, then tugged his hand loose from her grip.

"I don't doubt it," he said lightly. "I'll miss you. And," he added with a little chuckle. "-whatever Laun says, he'll miss those arguments and insults you two swap once he's gone, too." Then he turned his back on her and jogged back inside. Deryne lingered outside a moment more, making certain she would not begin to cry.

"Gods bless," she whispered, then followed him back inside.

* * *

"Ferensfell!" Inar glanced up; Clement waved him over to the table where all the knights stood around a map detailing the immortal nests in the area. "Wine!" Dutifully, Inar handed over a wineskin, then cast a hasty look at the map. So _that _was where they were; he recognized the lake as one only a few leagues from the capital. He eyed his knight master carefully; were they going to the palace, after all?

He was tired, and wanted to see his old friends one last time before Cadel was shipped off with his own master. Corus seemed like a good idea- and was even more appealing after hunting deadly creatures in the heat for weeks….

"This'll be dangerous," the knight in charge muttered. "Plenty of caverns- nooks and crannies for the bastards to hide in. Townspeople say there's bandits, too. It would have to be a large group of them to fend off the number of immortals in that forest. And then there's the gorge- one misstep and you're done." Pushing away uneasiness, Inar saw Sir Clement wink at him.

"Sounds just like our type of work, eh, squire?" he asked with a grin. Inar had to smile back at the man before ducking out of the tent and heading towards his own.

"Yes," he muttered to himself. "It does, indeed."

* * *

"Now will you tell me why you agonize over your uncle?" Deryne demanded, following Leo with quick, long strides. Why was it that- despite the shorter legs- smaller people always managed to be faster? If she turned it into a run, she would win, but that was not her aim. She wanted to keep up with the boy. "Come _on_, Leo- are you upset that Cadel's gone for four years?"

"There's that," the prince muttered as he pushed through the nobles in the room.

"Then what-" Deryne groaned as Leo managed to escape out into the hallway. "Your uncle gets to travel the world, he's taking Cadel with him-"

"Lucky for him," Leo mumbled. Deryne's eyes narrowed.

"For which one?" she asked as a suspicion formed in her mind. "Because I don't think your uncle's very lucky for being stuck with Cadel," she added, but the joke was lost on Leo.

"At least he _can _leave this country."

"Ah-_ha_!" Deryne half-skipped, half-ran a step to get in front of Leo, who stared forward with his chin stuck out. "But _you _can't ever, is that what you mean? Because you're the heir?"

"I'm stuck once I'm king," Leo said glumly, giving up. He stopped and crossed his arms over his chest.

"But you aren't yet," Deryne reminded him. "After you're knighted-"

"My father doesn't want to be king for as long as his father," Leo said darkly. "He _wants _me to claim the throne after just a few years of knighthood, which I-" Deryne's eyes widened.

"Wait- what?" She blinked. "So you become king…."

"At some undecided but very-close-to-my-Ordeal time," Leo finished with a sharp nod. Deryne snorted.

"If it isn't decided, then you can put it off. Believe me-" She grinned. "I can help." Beneath her smile though, her mind was churning. Here Leo was revealing a Conté secret to her, in a rant that had little to do with his uncle. Or maybe too much.

"I suppose," Leo said, unconvinced. Deryne sighed.

"So _you _are jealous. Angry that your uncles, your brothers can do things you _never-_" The boy whirled around, mouth open.

"_Me_-" He stopped for a moment, mind working away. Then he closed his mouth and frowned thoughtfully. "I suppose so," he said distantly, brow furrowed. "I'm not sure I like the sound of that," he finally said. Deryne giggled.

"Me neither" she admitted. "But I think I see the whole bit where you've branded this as a trap." Leo's eyes narrowed.

"Isn't it?" Deryne smiled, clasping him on the shoulder.

"Only if you make it, I think," she answered, looking up at the ceiling. "And maybe instead of labeling it a cage, you can take charge of it all, and have the best of any worlds you want."

* * *

When fall came around, Laun was gone too, in the hands Sir Charles of Morris.

"I won't come back a conservative," he swore when he bid farewell to the group. Deryne had coughed loudly, enough so that Laun turned to her and gave her an exaggerated salute.

"Not if you can help it," she had told the new squire. In truth, she missed them all, especially her cousin. She could not help remembering the division in his face when he confided to her the night of the party… and now he was _gone_, whisked further out of their lives than she could dare to comprehend.

HaMinch summoned her to his study a few days before classes began again; Deryne dressed in her uniform to present herself before the training master.

"How is your aunt, Page?" was his first, unorthodox question. Deryne had to bite her lip to keep her jaw from dropping. "Most would grant my question with an answer, page." Blinking, she nodded once.

"Well, sir," she stated, then added, "With the Own again, I believe."

"Hmm." The training master looked back down at his clean desk, then folded his hands. "When did your father clear you for field practice, page?" Deryne swallowed.

"Early August, sir."

"And yet," haMinch declared, still watching his hands. "I do believe I saw you working as early as late _June_, Queenscove." Deryne blanched. "A knight obeys his field healer, page, even if the healer is a worrying relative. A foolish death is a waste of life and time for the Crown. If this waste comes from disobeying from a healer, the folly is doubled." Composing her face, Deryne eyed the edge of the desk determinedly. Her nails bit into her palms as silence dragged on….

Then haMinch cleared his throat.

"Your work has been satisfactory, Queenscove. You will not repeat second year." Deryne sighed with relief, hoping that the training master had not noticed. "You will continue your extra hours with lances; you are not up to where you ought to be as a jouster. Dismissed." Hastily, the page bowed and exited as fast as she could, thanking the gods and fearing that the man would call her back into his study and decide to demote her.

* * *

One look at her face sent Aloin off his chair in a loud whoop. He patted her on the back heartily as Deryne slid into her seat for lunch.

"I knew he couldn't hold you!" he crowed. "Old Owl Eyes couldn't, not with all that work you've put in-" Mequen grabbed the other boy by the tunic and yanked him down into his seat just as haMinch strode into the hall. Then everyone stood respectfully, waiting for the training master to sit in his own spot. Eyes sweeping over the group of boys- and Deryne- haMinch cleared his throat.

"The term has not started yet, but I see that most of you are here," he called. "This is good. Your devotion to the realms is not overlooked, even here, in the humblest part of your training. I hope that you have all not lazed off during the holidays, but have been working as hard as the boys who remained here over the summer." Despite his use of the word _boys_, Deryne had an odd feeling as his gaze swept the room, alighting on her for a moment so quick, she _could _have imagined it. She fought a smile. If he was not recognizing her, he at least had seen how hard her friends had struggled over the hot months. And her with them. "May Mithros bless us all. So mote it be," he said shortly.

"So mote it be," the pages replied, then sat down to eat.

It was about halfway through the meal that a messenger dashed in to whisper with haMinch, who frowned and began talking furiously with the young man. Deryne nudged Leo, to her right.

"What's going on with Owl Eyes?" she muttered, letting her voice travel quietly across the table. Evrain snuck a glance and pursed his lips.

"Maybe the lad's come to warn us about the maggots in the bread," he said thoughtfully. "But haMinch doesn't want him to; he probably believes in eating them- good for the mind-"

"Ewww," Deryne groaned as Aloin eyed the bread distastefully. "You would bring that up _while _we eat, wouldn't you?" Evrain grinned, then snatched Deryne's slice up.

"Leaves more for me, doesn't it?" he asked before stuffing it in his mouth. Then he swallowed and swore. "Start talking, ladies- here he comes." Glancing over, the five pages saw haMinch coming towards the tables; each stared blankly at the others, minds struggling to begin a casual conversation. Instead, they were silent and able to hear the training master's words as he passed the tables, tapping boys on the shoulder.

"Foxcrek, Yarrowhill, up. Against the wall outside, now that you've finished your food. Juks, Dieslin- your first years will be able to find their quarters alone, yes? Zinsser, speak to your year mate, Foxcrek. After the others leave, report to the outside hall, Tiplan-" Deryne cast a questioning look at her friends, who all seemed as lost as she was. Leo was eyeing the addressed pages carefully as haMinch turned towards their table. His eyes widened, and he tugged on Deryne's sleeve.

"Hey- they're all third and fourth years!" he hissed, falling silent when the training master reached their table. All of them silently stared up at him as he glanced at each in turn. He gritted his teeth together, then snapped out orders.

"Ghenset, Jesslaw, Tayt, and Queenscove. I assume you know where to report by now." Without another word, he turned to the last table and pointed at several boys.

"I was right," Leo continued quietly. "Look- the only others at our table are second years, down at the end!" It was true; the boy Evrain had taken under his wing last year and his friends sat on the other side.

"For what?" Deryne wondered aloud as Mequen stood. He smiled wryly.

"Whatever it is, it must be important," he said, his soft voice accenting each word with a faint drawl. "After all, he's included the foreigner and the girl." Deryne grimaced, then stood.

"Let's go," she ordered her friends. "I want to find out what's got his feathers ruffled."

* * *

_AN: Yes, I leave off there. ;p I'm sorry for the terrible, boring torture of a long, talky chappie which ends when stuff heats up a little...  
_

I wasn't going to stop, but it was getting long and I figured I ought to give you all a chappie now and maybe again on Friday...


	27. Chapter 26: Masked Shadows

_AN: It's been awhile. I'm sorry about that- I hate it when writers do that sort of thing and here I am, filthy hypocrite... But I'm back on the job..._

Thanks to reviewers- **xxTunstall Chickxx**, **Dante Inferno**, **BACswimma**, **SarahE7191**, **twilightm00n**, and **Evilstrawberry**. Thanks for all your work, Kyrie- I'm not sending this because Mom might be dragging us all out on a random trip at any moment...

* * *

_Chapter 26_

_Masked Shadows _

_September 6, 478 H.E. _

"You are needed," haMinch told the pages. When the man looked down at the other end of the line, Deryne twisted to glance at Aloin, who shrugged. "Only a little away from the capital, the Own is busy tracking immortals in forests and twisted ravines, and Lord Raoul has requested assistance in the hunt." As the training master strolled down closer to Deryne, she whipped around and stood straight against the wall, smiling politely as he scrutinized her. "A squad of his men will be arriving in one hour's time. By then, I trust you will be changed, packed, saddled, and ready for orders after they have eaten." Deryne snorted quietly as they were dismissed. Making a face at Evrain, she shook her head.

"Is that all?" she asked, disappointed. "Here I was thinking there was some kinda trouble that had him quivering in his boots."

* * *

Inar shuddered as his squad crept through the gloomy caverns. Water trickled down the black rock, shimmering as the light that one of the Gifted soldiers held snaked across the cave walls. Every once in awhile, they would find bones that confirmed the place was a haven for spidrens and other creatures that dared not tread in the sunlight….

"Ferensfell?" The squire turned to his knight master, who smiled. "I could use a little more light here."

"Sorry," Inar muttered, hastening whispering an incantation that created a small ball of light in his hand. The boy held it up to view their surroundings.

"That's more like it. Rest if you need to; we might be down here for awhile." Sir Clement clapped the youth on the shoulder and smiled before pushing ahead. "Oi, Raph. What are your thoughts on these blasted bats those sentries saw a few days before?" Inar glanced around again uneasily. Several of the men claimed to have seen enormous shadows flying in the skies above; Lord Raoul had attempted to keep the story quiet, but what were the chances of hushing something up in the Own?

"Oh, they'd live in 'ere, if that lot weren't sipping a little too much whiskey before duty," Raph muttered, grabbed hold of a ledge to climb down a short drop. "His Lordship did note they were drunk, sir." Sir Clement smiled.

"I don't know if even spirits could make the men _that _inventive," he chuckled. "What say you, Inar?" The squire shrugged as he followed the pair; there were a few men behind them who were murmuring in low voices. .

"There's something down here, sir," he said quietly. That much was obvious from the scouting done by the Own, and the stories…. Besides, the eerie prickling on the back of his neck warned Inar that not all was quite right…. The damp air weighed down on his chest as he breathed; he was keenly aware of his pulse, thundering in his throat and through his veins. "And I don't think it's spidrens." Not if all those lessons about immortals as a page rang true… this was too crammed, too deep under the ground for the large half-human spiders-

"Brockmire?" Both knight and squire looked up as the head of the squad, Sir James of Cabral. "Look at this." The ranks parted for Sir Clement, while Inar was left to crane his neck over the others. The boy heard his knight master's low whistle.

"Maybe this explains why we haven't found anything so far," the knight muttered, leaving Inar to puzzle out what it was the two men were examining. "Perhaps… further ahead. The next turn?"

"Probably closer than that."

"Where, though?"

"Have you noticed, how the air's cooler?"

"A draft?" The two voices were all the squire could hear, two bodiless whispers that conferred back and forth….

"Higher ceilings, Brockmire. Can't even see the top of the cavern anymore." Inar looked up at the same time as the other men listening. It was true; instead of having a slab of rock only a foot or so above them, the sides of the cave stretched on and up into darkness.

"Above us?"

"Certainly- and if these things _are _shadows-" Inar shivered, then made the Sign against his chest. Several others did the same.

"Swords out," Sir Clement ordered softly. Inar felt a shiver of excitement rush through him as he eased his blade quietly out of its sheath. "Men in the back, watch behind you."

They wandered on through the narrowing passageway, careful to keep close but remain a sword cut away from those around them.

_There is evil here. _

The hairs on the back of Inar's neck rose; fear tore through him as he stopped. Something was there. Something whispered words in his ear… into his _mind_….

Coldness trickled down his body and through his arms warningly; he tensed.

"The tunnel ahead is blocked off," Sir James called from the front. "Looks like someone put this rock in front of the way into the next cavern!"

"Or something," Raph muttered, shaking his head. "Watch the back, men, while the others push it away." A large bearded man chuckled lowly and stretched his arm before pushing past Inar.

"This won't take long," he promised as he squeezed through to help Sir James.

It took five men and a good half hour to roll the slab away. Perched uncomfortably on a rock, Inar heard the shuddering crash and a collective gasp from those who had moved it away. He waited, tensed, until his knight master made his way back to him. Sir Clement had a frown on his face as he clapped his squire on the back.

"I don't like this," he whispered to the youth. "The cavern- some_one _has been living in there. Maybe more than one someone." Inar's eyes were fixed on the man's worried brown.

"What do you mean?"

"You'll see so enough," he muttered grimly. "Keep an eye out, Inar- you're fast, faster than the rest of us, perhaps, and you've the Gift. If something _does _happen, Sir James and I have agreed that you are to _run._" When Inar opened his mouth to protest, the knight shook his head. "Remember the way- you'll bring others back this way, understand?" Before the squire could reply, Sir Clement turned his back. "That's an order, squire," he declared flatly. "Forward and steady, men!" As Inar passed by the slab that had been pushed away, he guessed it _had _been put there purposely; it was too smooth, too rounded to be natural.

Then he forgot all about the stone.

Someone _was_ living there. Yes, Sir Clement had told him that… but Inar had expected the messy den of _something_- bones and rubble scattered wherever the darkness was brightened by torches.

It never occurred to him until then that Sir Clement had put emphasis on the some_one_.

There was light; he no longer needed to use his Gift. Pale light fell from the crevices above them, bathing the cavern in a glow that reminded Inar of moonlight. He gazed up at the gorge above him, the gorge covered with a ceiling of rock, and could not tell where the light could have _possibly _come from… but it was there. It was on the smoothened stones, on the steps that winded their way here and there, built in the walls and disappearing into darkened passages carved in the sheer rock.

"People built this," someone said behind him, but Inar still felt a little odd about the place. He could see something moving in the corner of his eye…. He turned to glare at the nearest stairway and the gaping turret it lead to; was there someone up there? He took a few steps forwards before Sir Clement called to him. In a moment, the man was at his side.

"No exploring alone- if you're going to wander, it's with a fat old man like me," he chuckled before jumping up the first few stairs. Inar smiled, then followed.

Unlike the open gorge, the passageways were darkened, so much so that Inar resorted back to using his Gift for light. Onward they crept, listening to the soft whisper of water, which continued to grow….

"So, squire," Sir Clement said loudly. "What do _you _suppose this is?" the youth frowned; his mind had been spinning since he lay eyes on the cavern.

"Some sort of city, or citadel," he said slowly. "Maybe- maybe something like the Black City, in the desert…." His knight master laughed.

"Then you think we're all in trouble, do you?" Inar's brow knit as he thought; the Black City had just come to him. They all learned about it, how the cursed Ysandir had lived there and how King Jonathon and the Lioness had defeated them as mere pages.

"I couldn't say," Inar replied, but he couldn't help but look more closely at the rock around them. It was black- _pure _black. He shivered, and made the Sign on his chest. "I-"

"_Hist!_" The knight held up a hand to silence his squire. "Can you hear it?" Inar listened; there was a sweet melody in the air, so sweet it made his stomach churn. There was an undertone in it, one that Inar strained to understand, but could not grasp. The two walked a little quicker, casting hasty glances around until they came to another chamber.

Now they was no doubting that _someone_- probably _many _had lived here, for many years…. Chills ran down Inar's spine at the sight of the circle of statues in the middle of the room, all glaring down at a black shroud in the center. Sir Clement took a step forwards, as though to enter the circle, then pulled back again. He walked around it cautiously, as though afraid that the statues were truly sleeping giants that could be wakened by a footstep.

"Mithros," he whispered as he looked at one.

"What?" Inar asked. His knight master smiled.

"I mean _Mithros_," he said wryly, nodding at the statue. Inar blinked. It was true; the statue resembled those back in the capital... except this Mithros had a fiercer face, with more fury than justice in his sculpted face. "With his sun shield… and the Goddess- Gainel, the Dream god, I suppose-" The man kept naming the statues as he wandered around.

"So what are they all guarding?" Inar muttered, eyeing the shroud; if it was another statue, it was much shorter than the others.

The youth hesitated just a moment more.

_They're just statues. _With that thought churning through his head, Inar strode towards the shroud, into the Great Gods' gazes, and yanked the cloth away from whatever it hid.

The world shook; Inar was knocked off of his feet, slamming into the rock floor with enough force to knock the breath from him. The statues trembled; dust flew.

"Inar!" Sir Clement shouted. The youth responded with a series of coughs.

"Here."

Once everything settled again, Inar leapt to his feet to eye a round crystal, resting on an iron pedestal. Multicolored light swirled around inside, as fierce as a storm as color after color battled for dominance inside.

Somehow, Inar knew he _should not _touch it. It was important, whatever it was-

But there was a voice in the back of his mind that was growing….

_Take it, grab it, touch it- _

"Ferensfell!" The squire whipped around. Sir Clement stared back, his finger pointing to the passageway. "Out! Now!" Inar lingered; his fingers were trembling. "Just get out! Don't touch anything!"

_Just a tap; don't even hold it. Curious, isn't it? It never need leave its place-_

Inar reached out for the crystal….

_Don't, _a chorus of voice cried in his mind. _No, no, no-! _He froze as the chant of nos built up in his mind. _No, no, no-!_ Then he pulled back.

The earth shook again, stronger this time; Inar toppled forwards, hands out-

He grabbed onto the crystal to keep himself from falling.

Color streaked across his vision, and shadows, too. Shadows with a touch of Chaos in them…. There was a woman, a goddess, fighting her way out of a circle, a circle of gods… A goddess of passion and flame-

Inar flung himself away from the crystal, landing again on the floor. Then, even as the first waves of curiosity and excitement rushed through him, the squire bolted. Fear made him shake as he sprinted back down the passageway, Sir Clement following behind. Small pieces of rubble began to fall from the ceiling above; Inar ran faster and faster, until he reached the top of the staircase. Only then was there any power to make him stop….

A shadow waited there for him, hovering in the air, in the shape of an enormous bat. Shocked by its sudden and daunting appearance, Inar felt it look at him, and he stared dumbly back, trying to summon forth some sort of emotion besides terror. Beyond the shadow's wings, Inar could see others swooping down on the men below. Neither darkness nor squire moved until Sir Clement burst onto the scene and swore. Skidding to a halt, the man put a hand on Inar's shoulder; the youth shook it off gently.

Then the shadow shot forwards, banging into the knight before soaring away. As Inar turned, something took hold of him. He stood like one of the statues behind them as Sir Clement fell off the ledge- with a shout the man grasped the edge of the stairs.

"Inar!" The boy felt as though he was already dead, as though he was in someone else's body. He watched as the man struggled to find a better hold. "Damn it, squire! Help!" Inar started forwards, but then he found he could not move. He could not speak, or run to save Sir Clement….

_You wait here, _a soft voice hissed inside his head. Inar fought it, straining his muscles this way and that…. _Let it happen, Ferensfell. Let him fall…. _And he knew, as his knighmaster's wild eyes locked with his…. _Stand here and watch, boy..._

He was helpless.

* * *

"All right, boys," the Own soldier put in charge of the pages said. Then he winked at Deryne. "And girl." She smiled ironically, then gave him a tiny wave. She liked him more than haMinch already. "Lord Raoul wants you lot split up and on ground teams. We have a new kind of immortal we're facing below, so he doesn't want you having anything to do with that yet." He scowled. "But there are plenty spidrens in the woods, mark me. Don't wander off, and _listen _to your leaders. Don't be stupid; don't be brave."

"Fine thing to be telling future knights," Deryne muttered; Evrain kicked her lightly. When she looked up at him in surprise, the redhead smiled thinly.

"Someone needs to take over for Cadel," he whispered.

"Hush!" the soldier commanded, but there was an indulgent glimmer of a smile on his face. "No risks, no lone scouting- got that?" They all nodded. "Good. Now, teams-"

Deryne was able to join in a group of fourth years including Evrain and three who introduced themselves as Foxcrek, Tiplan, and Zinsser, with all the pomp of boys using their fief titles instead of their names. Deryne hid a smile and nodded politely as Tiplan called her Queenscove. Then she exchanged an amused glance with Evrain.

The Own squad leader with them was called Habot and gave them an even longer lecture than the first man.

"Each of you is paired up with one of my men. Do _not _go off on your own; I don't feel like lugging carcasses through this woods and back to my lord." Deryne smiled slightly, then struggled to hide it. He had probably not been joking…. "This woods Is perfect for spidrens; they can drop in without a moment' s notice. So be ready; have more than one weapon at hand. Have one on you that you can reach easily. Better yet, have two." He shook his head. "This isn't the best situation for pages," he added darkly. "But none of you won't go far into the woods, and most will stay right in or near camp. You five have the short end of the straw, if you ask me-"

They were almost ready to leave when Marlon of Yarrowhill- a third year- rushed up to speak to Habot. Deryne pushed past a chatty Evrain to listen.

"Any idea why?" Habot asked lowly. Marlon shook his head, and Habot looked even more concerned. Then he inhaled slowly. "Not good," he said, shaking his head. "Dismissed, page." Deryne eyed the boy's face as he turned away; he seemed sulky…. She looked back up at Habot when the man cleared his throat. He was watching Deryne as he spoke to them. "Pages are to return to their horses; there will more a squad to escort you back to Corus." As a chorus of groans broke out, Deryne took a step forward.

"What's wrong?" she asked. Habot glanced at the others, then back at her.

"Suffice it to say," he said, voice low and dry. "It's serious, if my lord feels you ought to leave now. You aren't even allowed to repack your tents, girl."

"What- what do you mean?" Deryne asked. Habot grimaced.

"I mean that _you _are leaving, along with all the pages. Something's happened." He glanced over at the boys talking, then added, "I'd leave quickly if I were you. I've seen things you couldn't imagine… and Lord Raoul doesn't blink at any of them." Then he announced the change of plans loudly, glaring when several boys moaned.

_So how much worse is this? _Deryne wondered as they were ushered back to their mounts. She noticed the number of men with them; they didn't have an escort this time.

They had a guard.

And there was a familiar face among them, one that looked more haggard than Deryne had ever seen him…. She moved Zephyr as close as she could and cleared her throat.

"Inar?"

* * *

Rikash sat up, gasping. As he wiped his drenched hair off of his sweaty forehead, he sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm the storm racing through him. Malvyn was sitting at the window, looking at him with a politely blank face.

"Trouble sleeping?" he asked mildly as the other boy struggled to rid himself of his sheets; he nearly fell off the bed when he tried to stand.

"Just a bit," Rikash grumbled when he finally managed to get up. "I-"

"Keep it down a little?" Malvyn interrupted. "Don't wake up the rest of this lot; then there'll be no sleeping tonight." Rikash smiled as his friend waved a hand around the room, indicating the sleeping apprentices.

"You could just tell them to shut up," he muttered, walking over to stand by the window. There was a full moon; light streamed into the room. A glimmer of a smile slid across Malvyn's lips.

"You could, too," he answered before glancing back out the window. Rikash snorted; it was true that the younger boys might listen to him, but more out of intimidation than respect. _Malvyn_ had them eating out of his hand; they worshipped the ground he walked on, which had its uses. Rikash sighed ruefully; he'd never have that easy way with people; they'd _look _at him and start shying away, or despise him. If he and Malvyn were not so close, Rikash had no doubts he would have been the hated loner with rumors circling him like a pack of wolves ready to tear him apart. Rikash looked out into the night and hesitated. Then he looked over at the other mage out of the corner of his eye; Malvyn was watching him the same way. Rikash stretched his arm. He wanted to know what the dream was.

"Just... stuff flying through my head," he said, answering the unspoken question. "Fire- burning, a lot." Malvyn nodded, face sympathetic. "And there's these faces- I feel like I _should _know them, that I _need _to know them..." He took a deep breath. "And then they're gone and I'm alone."

"How are the faces important?" the other youth asked, only a very faint interest in his voice. Rikash grimaced.

"Not gods or anything, if that's what you mean. Just- I _need _to know them." He paused, frowning. "I _do _know them," he realized. "Or... at least two of them..." He let his voice fade, struggling to find a change to change the subject. Then he found it and cleared his throat.

"You know," he began casually. "It's been awhile since we've been in the city…."

"It has been," Malvyn agreed amiably, the smallest of smirks playing across his face. "Not since the beginning of the term, when they activated the alarm spells again…." Rikash looked back out the window again.

"An easy levitation would get any talented apprentice down to the courtyard," he continued. "From which the gate is opened…." Malvyn's teeth flashed in the dark, the white shining eerily in the moonlight.

"So it would," he agreed as he swung himself onto the window ledge. "So it will…."

* * *

"You've got so many mates in Corus," Rikash noted as the pair finally walked away from a group of men Malvyn had known. "Where'd you meet that lot?"

"Wharves," Malvyn replied. "But they work with a… a coterie that I know well." Rikash frowned.

"Coterie?" Several drunkards ran in between the two friends; Malvyn could say only a few words at a time.

"A group… of many… different people-"

"What sort of group?" Rikash asked once the men had moved on.

"We exchange stories, to better understand each other. And we talk about heroes… legends…." Malvyn glanced back up at the sky. "Prophecies."

"Really?" Rikash stared at his friend. "And you never told me because…." Malvyn shrugged, then walked on.

"It never really came up," was his reply before strolling on.

"Wait-" Rikash quickened his pace to keep up. "What sort of stories? Tell me."

* * *

"_All _of them?" Aloin hissed. Mequen cast a glance around them while Evrain cuffed the blond on the head. Deryne glared.

"Can you say it a bit louder?" she snapped back. "After all, we want to make certain Inar hears!" Then she sighed and nodded. "He's the only one who got out of those caves alive. When His Lordship sent his men down, there was no sign of the shadows- just the bodies." She shuddered.

"Damn," Evrain muttered, shaking his head. "I liked Sir Clement." Deryne swallowed a lump forming in her throat.

"So did I," she whispered hoarsely.

"What do _we _do?" Mequen asked, frowning. "I mean, he'll come back for this year, _at least_. Even if he's all right, no one's gonna let him go right back out into the field." Deryne nodded, then ran a hand through her hair.

"We'll treat him like we always have, I suppose."

"What? Just ignore him?" Evrain demanded incredulously. Deryne punched his arm a little harder than she usually would, while Mequen looked up at the sky.

"If you were an insensitive buffoon before, I'm sure Inar would rather that nothing has changed," he said dryly.

"Nothing _has _changed," Aloin pointed out. "Not Ev- he'll still be a buffoon fifty years from now." The insult lacked heart; Deryne just gave him a small, sad smile.

"Good try, Strawhead." She stood. "Well, I won't be surprised if haMinch enlists his help once we get back in a few hours. He'll be a better assistant for haMinch than Kasem. We can be grateful for that."

* * *

"You're the first to seek me out," Inar noted as he chucked a pebble into the slow moving, wide part of the river that he and Deryne were sitting by. "Everyone else seems to believe I should have time alone with my thoughts." Deryne picked up a stone and tried to skip it across the water. She grimaced as it sank right to the bottom.

"And I belong to the school of thought that says that you _definitely _shouldn't be left alone with your thoughts," she replied, trying to sound firm. "It's downright unhealthy, you know."

"Probably." He cleared his throat. "HaMinch will keep me busy, and your father's promised me sleeping draughts."

"Dreamless sleep?" Deryne asked. Inar nodded.

"It's better that way." He closed his eyes and leaned back on his elbows. "When I sleep, I see it, over and over again... I- I can't describe it, Deryne," he said.

"You don't have to. I wasn't looking for gory details to share with my mates," the page retorted, fighting against a powerful wave of curiosity. She couldn't help the curiosity… but she could silence her questions and thoughts. They wouldn't help Inar; enough people had pried and would in the future.

"I became a page to avoid that. To keep it from happening in front of me again," he continued, shaking his head. "And I can see how that worked out." A hard laugh escaped him, and when he glanced over at Deryne, her gaze dropped. He sighed. "Cadel told you. And I'm not surprised."

"Just a little," she mumbled. "Fief burned and all your family…." She stopped, unable to breach the subject. Not now, when the squire had other disasters to fill his mind. "Definitely unhealthy for you," she muttered under her breath. She was rewarded with a small smile from him.

"What about you?" he asked, humor shading his low voice. "I hear there was excitement over Midwinter that I wasn't here for." Deryne grimaced.

"Since I fell through that step in my first year, I've worried my father to no end. Prophecies, threats, stray arrows coming from nowhere, Ri bursting into flames-" She scowled. "If you manage to see him, hit him for me?" When Inar laughed, a bubble of relief blossomed in her chest.

"Why this time?"

"Does there need to be an occasion?" she asked tartly, provoking another laugh from him. This was good; maybe she could lift him from the despair and terror surrounding him sooner rather than later. "He's gone off to the University. But I think you knew that?" The squire nodded.

"Not a word from him," she muttered. "Not that I expected it."

* * *

"And then the Shang Dragon roared with pain and wrenched the dagger out of his side-" Eyes twinkling, Malvyn stopped, head cocked to one side as he smiled knowingly. "And I do believe it's past lights out."

"So?" asked one of the bolder apprentices. Rikash rolled his eyes; the sooner these _children_ were asleep, they could start the _real _fun. Either practice arcane magic, or explore the city…. It did not matter, so long as it livened the monotony of the day for Rikash. He glared at the boy.

"So sleep, dolt." Malvyn shot a warning look in Rikash's direction, then shrugged.

"I need rest as much as the rest of you lot," he answered, amused. Rikash snorted; Malvyn rarely slept. It was as though he stole away the energy and fire of anyone nearby, making them feeble and foolish in comparison to his brilliance. When another boy began to protest, the young man held up a hand. "Oh no, Jac. I need my beauty sleep." This provoked a laugh throughout the room; Rikash felt himself smile.

"I still don't see why," a puny boy who sat on his bed grumbled. "Maybe _I _would like to complete my work, which might be done by now if there wasn't so much noise in here." Malvyn's eyes narrowed slightly, but his smile was unwavering.

"Then I would suggest trading beds to get into a room with others who share your sentiments," he answered, his voice biting and pleasant all at once. "Preferably someone interesting, if you wouldn't mind the inconvenience. I realize you know very few who might fit the request." The room was silent; the small apprentice was staring down at his blanket. "Flames out in five, Salmalin?" Rikash nodded and flexed his fingers; he often doused all the candles at once, especially if they only had a moment's notice before a late night room check to make certain all were asleep. Sometimes he and the apprentices would compete to see if the younger boys could light the candles with their Gifts while Rikash doused them. If all the candles were lit, even for a moment, the apprentices won. If Rikash kept every single flame out for a count of ten, he won.

Rikash always won. Malvyn refused to challenge him.

"Not now," he'd say, fingers tapping against something as he rolled his eyes. "I'm bored." And then he'd jump up and lead his followers in some new game. "Everybody listen," he'd say.

And no one dared ignore him.

* * *

**AN: The next chappie is going to be a skip, so look out for that!**

**What do you think? Reviews, please! And I apologize again for the delay!**


	28. Chapter 27: An Apology

_And to make up for my neglect these past few weeks…. Thanks to my reviewers (who are putting up with my miserable writing habits)** Dante Inferno**, **Shang Leopard**, **twilightm00n**, **Lemondrop xxx**, **BACswimma**, **xxTunstall Chickxx**, **SarahE7191**, and my beta, **KyrieofAccender**. BTW, I feel like the climax(es) and terrible cliffies are close... I will be away until August 2, so this will mostly likely be my last post until after that... NOTE THE DATE BELOW THE CHAPPIE!! IT'S BEEN A FEW YEARS!!  
_

* * *

_Chapter 27_

_An Apology_

_June 18, 480 H.E. _

"Why in the _world _would you throw away a friendship like that?" Malvyn demanded incredulously. Rikash winced and regretted that he had ever mentioned Deryne. Little by little, over the weeks, his friend had pestered the living daylights out of him… until he gave in and told Malvyn about his friendship with the page. It had been purely academic, his mentioning her… but Malvyn had focused on the girl herself instead of her Gift and now could not leave the subject alone. "It seems like she's the only one besides me who can tolerate you daily, and you just _fell out _with her?" His shrewd eyes narrowed. "How long ago was this 'drifting apart,' may I ask?"

"Summer…." He closed his eyes, preparing for the attack his friend would inevitably launch in a moment. "Three years ago."

"You _must _be kidding me," Malvyn said flatly. Rikash did not reply. "And this was when you joined the University." Malvyn never missed the tiniest detail; Rikash only nodded. "You didn't just drift apart, did you?" the young man continued. "You two fought, didn't you? And then _you _fled the palace."

"Did you figure out how to read minds, then?" Rikash grumbled, opening his eyes to glare at the brown haired mage. Rikash was now delegated to the status of an advanced student, while Malvyn, who had no father to convince Master Hayward that he should only have one year as an apprentice, was working on his year as an assistant, which Rikash had completed the year before. Both still resided in the dorm, and their posse had grown. Malvyn had even taken a few of the young apprentices into the city, which irked Rikash to no end. None of them were even close to being as talented as either Malvyn or him; he saw them as a waste of time, except for the occasional favors the younger students would do for them.

"Not yet." Malvyn grinned cockily. "But she sounds like too good a friend and too close just to disappear on you. Not to mention, I can read you like a book." Rikash's brow furrowed; he tried to disguise his annoyance. Malvyn's grin only grew. "Oh, yes," he drawled, eyes sizing up the other youth's face. Rikash struggled to ignore the barb, not that his friend meant it as an insult or demeaning comment, but the assistant prided himself on knowing people. Still, those knowing blue eyes were watching him in a confident matter that made Rikash want to squirm. "As much as you like to hide your thoughts, they're more transparent than not, Salmalin. There are no secrets in you. Not from me." He let the words sink in, then added, more cheerfully, "-which is why I'm telling you now that, for your own good, you should make up with the poor girl." He broke eye contact, which was a relief for Rikash. "Inar would agree with me, you know. And he doesn't even like me all that much."

"He doesn't like most people," Rikash said. He suspected that his old friend resented the new partner who had replaced him. Malvyn smiled.

"I do believe I know someone else like that. No wonder you get along," he drawled. Shaking his head, Rikash rolled his eyes. "And someone who dislikes the majority of the world should either change his ways, or value those he _does _like a little more."

"You should try for the priesthood," Rikash muttered in consternation. Malvyn replied with a bark of laughter.

"They'd throw me out in a week," he answered with a smirk. "I'm the last sort they'd want." Then his smile fell, his blue eyes weighing down on Rikash with all the gravity of Mithros himself. The blond Advanced student stared back mutinously for a moment, but the moment passed and Rikash found himself struggling not to look away. "Talk to her," Malvyn commanded. "Maybe then I'll feel like taking you into the city to one of the meetings." Rikash's eyes widened; his friend always told stories he had heard from his little coterie, but never offered to take _anyone _with him in the three years Rikash had known him. "And maybe not."

* * *

"Now that we've passed the exams and our knight masters are-"

"Deryne," Inar interrupted Aloin's words quietly as he nudged her. He stepped between her and Mequen to walk alongside her. Deryne looked at him, puzzled; he was grinning.

"There's a rare sight," the girl muttered, referring to the older boy's smile. On the other side of Aloin, Leo snickered. Humoring her quip, Inar laughed quietly and pointed across the practice courts where they were walking.

"There's a rarer one," he retorted, his grin still in place. Deryne followed his gaze to the person walking towards them and gasped.

"Mithros," she breathed. Then she sprinted forwards. "Cadel! _Cadel!_"

"Hey! Wait up!" Aloin called as Deryne crossed the grass between them and flung her arms around her cousin.

"Damn, you grew," she muttered, wrapping her arms around his neck. Cadel laughed, pulling her so close she could not breathe.

"Three years all over the world can do that to a boy," he retorted.

"And we had nothing to go off of but reports from your elusive knight master to the king," she replied, not missing a beat. "Good thing we're friends with Leo."

"There are plenty of reasons it's good you're my friends," the prince said indignantly as the four others joined the pair. Deryne laughed, then released Cadel to look him over.

He would never be as big as Evrain had turned out to be, nor as tall as Aloin threatened to be with his spurts of growth; Deryne could see that by looking at him. But he was muscled and tan from his years with Jasson of Conté; there were calluses on his hands and a very faint scar on his cheek. Deryne touched it gingerly, then glared up at Cadel. He was an inch or two taller than her now.

"What happened? Cut yourself trying to preserve your smooth cheeks?"

"Only you would notice," Cadel laughed, shaking his head. "Bandit, about two years ago, I think. We were on our way to the Roof of the World- did you know that's where the Lioness retrieved the Dominion Jewel?"

"Of course!" Deryne replied, feeling insulted. "Myles has told us all those stories! What were you doing there? Braving snowstorms and listening to fortune tellers?"

"What else?" The cousins wore matching grins as they exchanged words.

"Found one to tell your fortune?"

"And she fell asleep right in the middle of it. Of course, that was because she was drugged." Deryne snorted, refusing to ask what actually happened.

"That dull, hmm? She needed a _friend _to get her out of it?"

"At least I don't have seers screaming and-"

"Can I get a word in?" Aloin demanded. "Mithros, you two are-" He shook his head, unable to find the proper word. "Cadel, good to see you. Where have you been these last three years?" Cadel grinned, his hazel eyes twinkling.

"Carthak, Scanra, Galla, the Bahzir, Maren, Sarain-"

"Everywhere, then," Deryne muttered. She poked him in the chest, then gestured to his sword hilt. "Are you undefeatable yet?" Mequen snorted. Cadel smirked.

"Did you want to try me?"

Deryne's eyes slid over to Inar, who was watching her. The young man was fighting a smile that broke across his face as they locked gazes. Then he rearranged his expression and looked up at the sky.

"Deryne's gotten really good since you left," Aloin mentioned. "You know she's really fast- it's like she knows where your blade's going before you do." Inar coughed; Deryne shrugged, an odd smile playing across her lips.

"If you feel like having a go now, I guess I could use some humbling," she told her cousin, fiddling with the hilt of her own sword. Cadel grinned, then unsheathed his sword.

"Why not?" He cocked his head to one side as Deryne spelled both blades to dull the edges and protect both of them during the duel. She was also different, although he guessed the changes were more subtle for her than for him. She was certainly older, with more of a female figure now… but she _moved _differently than he remembered, too. When she looked up at him, her icy blue gray eyes gleamed as she hefted her sword. She was more confident now than ever… but there was a grace to her motions that he had seen with the Shang and other phenomenal fighters, one that seemed _impossible _to have picked up in three years of page training…. He remembered her clumsiness from years before and smiled to himself; surely someone who could fall through steps and knock herself out with a lance had not lost all that talent in only a few years.

She would be stronger now, and she had always been quick, but he had far too much experience on her….

This would be quick but tricky, if Cadel was reading Inar's careful face correctly…. The squire was ready for knighthood; Cadel trusted the other young man's judgment, even if Inar had not seen Cadel fight in a long time…. Whatever he knew about Deryne, he was keeping it to himself….

"Ready?" He looked over at Deryne; her face was composed, but her eyes were laughing. He glanced at Inar, who was clearly avoiding both of their gazes. But Cadel could see the smile on his face.

What was so funny?

"Ready," he replied, then leapt back as Deryne shot forward. He swore in surprise, but parried her lunge easily. Without a pause, she whipped her blade the other way, at his side. She _was _fast. Cadel swung his sword down just in time to catch hers, then thrust it backwards and began to attack.

He kept moving, shifting back and forth, hoping to catch her off-balance. He cut upwards; she smacked the blade back and parried his next hit easily. He ducked a sweeping cut over his head and jabbed; he thought he had her for a moment, but her blade twisted to intercept his without a hiccup in the fluid motion.

Their swords hit each other with an accuracy that preyed on Cadel's mind; there was never a slip, never a close hit or miss- Deryne parried each attack perfectly, as though it were a fight sequence they had worked out for days….

She kept perfectly spaced from him, as though they were in a drill, the ones where haMinch and Ezeko drew lines for the pages to stay behind….

He struck again, then pulled back to watch her carefully. Although she was sweating, she was also smiling indulgently, as though she were waiting patiently for something…. Cadel's eyes narrowed; he lunged in again, watching her feet.

_There! _He withdrew again, eyeing her again, puzzling furiously over what had just happened. As their blades met, he had swept his around towards her side to try again.

But before he had even twisted the blade around to continue the attack on her, she had shifted her feet to defend a blow to the side… _before _he had done it.

Luck.

Or was it? Bewildered, Cadel attacked again, even quicker than before. He began to drive Deryne back, one step at a time. Their blades whirled back and forth so quickly Cadel relied more on instinct and reflex than sight…. As the two swords met, Cadel bore his weight down over Deryne, glaring into her face as she struggled to push him away.

_Instinct and reflex… instinct- _Cadel's eyes widened; his jaw dropped as he stared at his cousin.

_That was it!_

"Mithros," he whispered, shocked. Then Deryne shoved him away and smacked his sword. It flew out of his hands easily; Cadel let himself fall to the ground as Aloin leapt back from the flying blade with a squawk. He gazed up at his cousin for a moment more as her calm, chilling eyes studied his face.

"That was really hard," she said softly. "I thought you had me for a moment." She held out a hand to him; Cadel just looked up at her.

"What's up, Broakhale?" Aloin drawled. "Never thought you'd be beaten by a girl?" Cadel blinked once, mouth still agape. Deryne squatted down next to him, eyebrows raised.

"Catching flies, Cadel?" she asked softly. He closed his mouth, then cleared his throat, trying to arrange his thoughts in some way that made sense.

"Does everybody know about that?" he whispered. Deryne's smile was lopsided. "I mean- that was… I've never seen anything like it!" He shook his head, trying to clear it. "Sensing motion, impulses- lots of fighters put stock in that. His Highness helped me react without thought- but you…. That wasn't even reacting to something headed your way, it was defending yourself before the attack even-" He exhaled loudly, shaking his head again. "How-"

"A combination," Inar said quietly, looking at Mequen and Aloin as the two made their way over. They could not hear the conversation. "-of sensing the intent of the opponent _and _feeling the motions of his blade as it attacks. Of course, once someone knows about Deryne's little trick, he can practice masking his intent and increase the spontaneity of his actions. But it's still very hard. To fight someone so quick," he tacked on as Aloin and Mequen joined them.

"So I can beat her with practice?" Cadel laughed weakly; he could see why Deryne wanted to keep quiet. People would always look at her funny for being a female knight. No one needed to know that she also sensed an attack before it happened….

"Maybe," Deryne answered, grinning. "You almost had me as it was, without knowing… about my speed," she added with a look at their friends. "It was surprise, is all."

"What happened there, anyway?" Mequen asked with a frown. "Cadel, you just stopped." Cadel grimaced; the stunning revelation had made an unexpected end to the fight.

"I dunno," he lied with a shrug. "I just- stopped, as you said. I suppose you'll work on _speed _with your knight master?" he asked Deryne. She smiled.

"Yes, Sir Alan has been informed." Cadel's jaw dropped for the second time in the last hour. _Sir Alan?_

"Of Pirate's Swoop?" When Deryne nodded, eyes shining, he gasped in delight. "There is no _way_ he-" He laughed out loud, leaping up to twirl his cousin around in a circle. "Lady Alanna's _son_! Whenever you go to the Swoop, you'll see _her _and-" He shook his head with a gleam in his eyes. "This is the closest the Lioness can come to having a female squire of her own, and nobody can say anything against it!" Deryne rolled her eyes.

"I'm with Sir Alan, not Lady Alanna," she reminded him. "And I doubt we will be in the Swoop much; he told me already that we're headed for the desert once we leave." Cadel stopped leaping around and eyed his cousin.

"When?" Deryne shrugged.

"The date isn't set yet, but it could be tomorrow for all I know," she told Cadel. "It'll be a few days before I move my belongings from the page wing to my new room, so probably not until then, plus a few extra days. But I don't know." Cadel sighed.

"And I only just got back," he said mournfully. He turned to Leo. "But your uncle and I will be staying in Tortall this last year; he wants me to know every inch of land there is." Deryne snickered.

"Have fun with that. I-"

"Look at that. Today seems to be a day for the reunion god," Mequen muttered. Deryne frowned as they all looked over at him.

"There's a reunion god?" she asked; the boy smiled.

"If there was one, I'd say he's working today," he said dryly, pointing a finger at the way Cadel had come from the stables. Puzzled, Deryne turned, then scowled.

"Rikash Salmalin," she said under her breath as she eyed the blond figure walking towards them. "What brings you to honor us with your presence today?" Cadel frowned, looking at her, then at Inar.

"What happened this time?" he asked. Inar looked from Deryne to Rikash, still thirty yards away.

"They still haven't made up since you were last here," he muttered. Deryne glared at him; she missed Cadel's reaction to this update. She knew Inar- with his special privileges as a squire at the palace- visited the University often; once a month at the very least. _He _was still on good terms with Numair Salmalin's son.

Rikash's visits were infrequent and scattered, mostly during the holidays to see his family. He never seemed to blink an eye in her direction, and there he was…. She glowered at him when he reached their group.

"Come to welcome Cadel back?" Deryne asked sharply. Rikash turned towards her; he blinked.

"Of course, Deryne," he said in a low voice; his eyes flickered. Then he turned to Cadel and nodded, looking slightly awkward. The squire held out his hand, which Rikash took. Then Cadel pulled him into a quick but firm hug.

"Good to see everyone here, aside from Laun and Ev," he said brightly. "Ri, you and Deryne haven't set anyone else on fire since last time, right?" Deryne fought the urge to look away when Rikash looked at her. His amber eyes sent her nerves buzzing, like angry bees in a hive.

"You've said hello; are you going to turn tail and run along back to the University now?" Deryne asked, her voice deadly soft. Cadel glared at her as Rikash's gaze fell to the ground.

"I was wondering," the mage said, eyes narrowed. "-how you're doing, Deryne. With your Gift and all." Deryne frowned; remembering their _last _discussion about the Gift. Then her frown deepened; had that _really _been over three years since then?

"I believe I have established _adequate _control over it, if that's what you're referring to. How are your own studies going? Intriguing enough to keep you away from here, I assume." Mequen laughed uneasily and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"All right, then," he said forcefully. "So much love, I feel threatened." Rikash snorted; Deryne bristled.

"I only asked what any mage might ask another," the young man retorted haughtily, glaring over at her. Then he grimaced. "Sorry, Deryne," he added, in a low, quick voice. The girl blinked; was this an _apology_?

"For what?" she said guardedly, awkwardly aware of her friends' gazes. Rikash sucked in another breath.

"You know I never really- at the Swoop," he muttered, fumbling with the cuff of his tunic. "I'm sorry about that." A small smile flickered across Deryne's face.

"You hate apologies," she noted, casting a look around them. "Even more in front of people."

"So you know I mean it, then," he gritted back. "And I really do." Deryne eyed him for a long moment; although he tried to hide it, she could sense his urge to fidget. Then she sighed and took a step to reach out and grab the mage's arm.

"C'mon," she muttered. "I'll let you do the rest of the apologies in private." This was enough to provoke a response; Rikash looked up in surprise and glowered at her, amber eyes narrowed.

"What other apologies?" he demanded. Someone snickered as she tugged on his sleeve. Deryne rolled her eyes, then jerked her head towards the palace.

"You might as well say hello to your sister, since you're here," she said. "Remember her?"

"Funny," Rikash said darkly. "Just because _you _never see me doesn't mean I'm not here." Deryne snorted.

"So you crept in while we pages are rolling around in the dust out here? I should've known." Rikash said nothing. "Or do you fly in at night and stalk the corridors alone? You are looking pale-" Then she frowned and stopped moving. Rikash was watching her as warily as he might eye a rabid dog playing dead. "That's a lie," she said thoughtfully, looking him over with a small frown.

He was actually much tanner than she had ever seen him; his blond hair was not as dark as it usually was, either. Deryne was even more surprised when a crooked smile crept across his lips.

"I'm touched that you noticed such little details," he said wryly, and his friend snorted, although her mind whirled as they continued on. Rikash was different. She always could predict his reactions with an exactness that had won her many bets with Cadel. But there was something _different_- the old Rikash never would have said that to her; he had only the tiniest sense of humor. And most of the wit he had was used caustically, little barbs to needle someone- _anyone_- to get them to leave him alone.

"I'm the girl among you lot- someone has to keep track of these things," she retorted. Then she allowed a tiny smile to cross her face. "Maybe the University isn't such a bad thing, if they keep kicking you out of the library and into the sun. Whadya do, start a fire in there?" Rikash outright grinned; Deryne gasped. "You _didn't_-"

"Nah," he said. "My friends threatened to, though, if I didn't abandon books for city outings."

"I might have to meet these friends," Deryne replied, carefully gauging his every movement. He seemed more relaxed now than a moment before, but he was still nervous. And his caution made her wary, too. He was trying too hard- He smiled again.

"I'd better not. I shudder to think what stories you could think up to tell them." Deryne's smile turned into a lopsided smirk; she guessed what was going on in his head.

"And I shudder to think how uncomfortable you feel, working so hard to be charming and cheerful," she rallied. "You know, that _has _always been _my _duty." Rikash started; a more familiar expression slipped across his face: a puzzled frown. Then he grimaced, and Deryne grinned widely. "There we go- _that's _a sight I recognize!"

"Shut it," the youth retorted, which only made the girl laugh.

_There's the one we all know and love, _she thought, amused. _Well, know, anyway…. _She cleared her throat.

"Good to see you, Ri." She patted him on the back. "So was it seeing Cadel that motivated this sudden penance, or were you inspired by the Gods as you walked down the street today?" He rolled his eyes, but smiled.

"The almighty indignation of that same friend who tossed me out of the library, actually. You'd like him." Deryne looked back down the way they had come; their friends were no longer in view.

"Yeah. I owe him a favor." She cleared her throat. "You should've talked with me before…."

"Why didn't _you_?" The girl met his gaze; he knew well why. His eyes dropped. "I'm sorry," he repeated, running a hand through his hair. "I'm stupid- I'm a nasty, stubborn idiot. I'm a right pain in the butt, I know." Deryne fought a smile and failed.

"Damn right you are." Her tone made Rikash glance up again, eyes guarded. Then, before she could lose her nerve, Deryne flung her arms around his neck. She was in for another surprise when he wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off the ground for a moment.

"I really am sorry," he muttered in her ear. "Just don't tell Cadel or anybody else I groveled. I have my pride to think about." Deryne snorted.

"That doesn't count as groveling," she retorted as she released him and stepped out on his embrace. "That was stating cold, hard facts." His lips twitched.

"So, how _have _your Gifted lessons with my father gone?" Deryne grinned.

"You are speaking to someone who can sense any attack coming my way- so long as I'm paying attention." Her smile widened. "And I can fly." Rikash's eyes grew huge; Deryne felt a rush of excitement at his astonishment. "Kinda," she added, eyes glittering. "Want to see?" Without waiting for an answer, she closed her eyes and held her hands out to her sides.

_Up, _she thought as she began to collect the air in the room with her Gift. Slowly, she rose from the floor. Gently, she pulled more and more of her magic to keep herself floating. When she opened her eyes, Rikash was looking up at her, shaking his head.

"I am lost for words," he said, smirking. "You've taken my breath away." Deryne rolled her eyes. "No- really. You're condensing the air around us to stay up." As he stepped back further and breathed in deeply, the ironic expression on his face made Deryne laugh.

"What tricks have you got to show me?" she asked, cheeks flushed.

"Nothing so amazing, I'm afraid," Rikash muttered grimly. "I could burst into flames again, but I figure you've seen that one too many times already." Deryne smiled softly. "Inar has been helping us with little experiments," he continued. "But nothing worthwhile for anyone not interested in little theories and tests."

"Us?"

"Malvyn and I. He's another student who entered late at the University." Deryne nodded; furrowing her brow as she shifted in the air, floating a few feet forwards. Rikash followed at a distance.

"Maybe I'll come sometime with Inar." She chanced a look down and caught her companion's frown.

"I… don't know." He cleared his throat. "I'll have to talk with Malvyn first." Deryne scowled.

"Why?"

"Because I know Inar would agree, but there are some sensitive things that-"

"I'm a mage, too, Ri. Just as much as Inar," she pointed out. "Besides, isn't this the same boy who chased you in here to talk with me?"

"There's a difference between telling a friend to make up with a girl and letting her in on delicate workings-" Deryne snorted.

"Oh, I get it: boys only, huh?"

"It's not that-" Rikash let out an exasperated breath. "Deryne- just… I'll talk to him. But you'll have to _swear _not to tell anybody about anything we do." Deryne frowned.

"Why not?"

"Some of the spells are a little tricky- a little risky," Rikash said carefully. Eyes narrowed, Deryne looked down on him. "Nothing that could hurt any of us!" he added. "Not with me and Malvyn there-"

"I see," Deryne lied. The relief in Rikash's eyes was clear.

"After all," he continued, bolstered by her words. "You know how people are. They don't want anyone to do anything more dangerous than lighting a candle unless there's supervision. Parents, especially," he finished, eyes boring into Deryne's meaningfully. She raised an eyebrow.

"You want me to say nothing to your da?"

"No need to sound so disapproving," Rikash volleyed back, searching her face. "Since when did Deryne of Queenscove go running off to her elders, telling them everything she did?" Her control slipped; Deryne yelped as she fell several feet. By the time Rikash began to swear, she was steadied again. She cleared her throat and seized the moment to change the subject. What Rikash asked, if she thought about it, had nothing remotely sinister about it. In fact, when the two of them had done anything without Master Salmalin's direct instructions, that secrecy went without saying. Still, there was something about the request that made her insides twist.

"That's my little trouble," she said, allowing herself to sink back to the ground. "This takes a great deal of concentration. Control." Suddenly, Rikash's words about control popped into her mind, unbidden.

_Talking about those gudruna, reading people's minds, invading their private worlds- you love it, and then you shy away from the hard work! The mediation! The will to command your Gift! Maybe you wouldn't have lost control just now if-_

"Deryne?" She blinked; he was waving a hand in front of her face. She swallowed heavily; a lump had formed in her throat.

"Ri?" she asked softly, eyes wavering even as her resolute face composed itself. Rikash frowned.

"What is it?" He put a hand on her shoulder, but she stepped back, jaw clenched.

"We… we're not all right, yet. I'm not-" She cleared her throat as he pulled back, confusion showing. "I've done the work," she said. "All that meditation, and I've blocked out all those thoughts." As she spoke, it occurred to her that he probably had no idea what she was talking about. She doubted that he remembered his words at the Swoop.

"Have you been up at the Needle?" he asked, grasping onto her last words. "It might be more of a challenge, up there-" Deryne's eyes narrowed.

"No, I haven't," she said tightly. "I seem to remember someone who offered to help me practice, but he hasn't decided to give me a hand yet." Rikash's eyes widened in comprehension, then narrowed again.

"What else do you want me to do?" he asked darkly. "I've apologized- in front of that whole lot, in fact-! I was stupid, yes. I'll help you if you want. But don't smile one moment and then bring it all up the next." Deryne grimaced.

"Forgiven but not forgotten," she replied firmly. "Those words still hurt. And they hurt more because you never bothered to take them back until a new friend told you to." Rikash glared.

"I wanted to avoid you at first, and then as time went on, it got harder and harder to just- just pick up again!" Deryne resisted the urge to cross her arms and walk away. Still, she clenched her fists together and stared off to the side. There was an abandoned arrow in the center of a target in the empty shooting range. She took a few steps over to put a hand on the fence separating her from the shooting area. Annoyed, Rikash cursed. "I was upset, Deryne."

"So was I," she replied coolly. "But you still attacked me. Called me weak. All sorts of things that you should have begged forgiveness for."

"What do you think I'm doing now?" he demanded, exasperated. Deryne snorted.

"Telling me to forgive you, so you can go back to your new friends and tell them you fixed it." Rikash sucked in a breath so harshly it sounded like a hiss.

"You're honest, at least," he muttered.

"Since when have I _not _been?"

"You attacked me first, anyway." Deryne sighed and put a hand to her head. "Deryne?" A note of concern crept back into his voice. "Are you-"

"_Fine_." She turned from him and climbed over the fence to wander over to the targets. "Just- Ri, saying sorry won't make everything better overnight."

"It's a start," he retorted fiercely. Deryne smiled sadly; he seemed determined to patch their friendship up, but why just start now? Maybe a scolding from a friend was all he needed to come… but didn't he remember what happened that day? She did… vividly. And it would take more than a few words and less than an hour's time to change that.

As he hovered behind her, the girl reached the arrow stuck in the target and tugged sharply; it wouldn't come out. No wonder its shooter had left it. Its head was almost entirely embedded within the wood.

Why bother trying to explain to him? Either he came back… or he didn't. And if he did- if this wasn't only a feeble attempt to set things right and silence his conscious- he would make up for everything, sooner or later. It was only now, that she had showed him how she could fly, that she realized how much she missed him.

"Yeah. It is."

* * *

The young man ran a hand through his hair, reading over the message once more.

_It is time. _

Of course it was. He rolled his eyes. How foolish did they think he was? And it would be easy, even easier than they could have imagined. Everything- and every_one- _was playing into his hands perfectly. He had set the traps; now, the foolhardy ones lurking right under his nose had to be ensnared...

He would have to hunt, to find those who eluded him...

And then they would have a proper Yama's Festival. Soon, they would _all _be bound, and the Mage would return.

And then they would fulfill the destiny of the world….

* * *

_AN: As my beta says, dun dun dun! Reviews? I've already started the next chappie, and I'm getting darker, I fear... sinister stuff going on... Reviews, please? You were all so obliging last chapter, and I thank you for that (with a quick update, of course) Maybe there's another one from where that came from... ;D_


	29. Chapter 28: Awakening

_Haha! I DID IT! I should be given a medal. (or, at the very least, lots of reviews hinthint) It is a little shorter than usual, but hopefully acceptable. ;D THIS chapter WILL be the last until after Aug 2, but I have managed this last bit for you wonderful people. Thanks to all reviewers (whose comments helped me get this done!) : **Shang Leopard**, **Dante Inferno**, **SarahE7191**, **Lemondrop xxx**, **Evil Strawberry**, **twilightm00n**, **BACswimma**, **dares to dream**- you are great! And last but never least, my beta, _**KyrieofAccender**. _You are amazing, whether or not I actually send you the chappie. ;D_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

_Chapter 28_

_Awakening_

_October 5, 480 H.E. _

"Hello, Inar." The squire nodded his greeting to Malvyn, who lay sprawled on his bed. Then Inar looked at the empty beds of the roommates Malvyn and Rikash continued to room with in the past few years. They could have moved their quarters to those of their current ranks, but Rikash had said they had decided to evade the unnecessary hassle. Privately, Inar felt that Malvyn liked to be close to his little followers, whom the young man viewed with a mixture of bemusement and pride. "Where are your worshippers?"

"Funny, Ferensfell." Malvyn sat up. "They left." Inar's eyes narrowed. He disliked how the other youth said his fief's name, with a touch of steel behind it as though he used it as a reminder.

"You sent them out?" Malvyn shrugged, unrepentant.

"We need elbow room tonight." Inar frowned. "Rikash will be in soon."

"I don't know if this is a good idea." Inar pressed his advantage; with Rikash there, it would be two against one. "So many things could go wrong." Malvyn laughed.

"I doubt it," he answered. "You've been siphoning energy off my friend for years now. Why shouldn't I get a chance to see this? It's a tricky working. Takes a skilled mage's touch to make certain everything pans out right." Inar ignored the subtle compliment.

"All the more reason _not _to move the location." A smile flickered across the mage's face.

"The only problem would be if _you _cannot use _that_-" He jerked his head to indicate the diagram in Inar's hands. "-to recreate the gate properly." Before Inar could retort, he added smoothly, "And I have complete faith in your abilities, my friend." Then he stepped forwards, a smile still on his face as his blue eyes searched Inar. "I have a question for you." The squire's jaw set.

"And what would this be?" he asked, irritated by the assistant mage's steady stare. Malvyn ignored him.

"I've actually been wondering about this for awhile," he said thoughtfully, leaning against the bed post as he contemplated the squire before him. "How did you and Sir Clement get separated?" Inar blinked; chills ran up his spine. Nobody had talked about his old knight master in years.

"What-"

"The day he died, you were separated," Malvyn said patiently. "What happened?"

"I- why would you say that?" Inar was not sure what scared him more: the sudden change of topic, the relaxed voice asking that direct, loaded question, or the idea that Malvyn had certainly been thinking about this for some time. A ghost of a smile crossed the student's face.

"Well, he wouldn't have left you alone in such a place," he explained pleasantly, as though he were discussing the weather with a child. "And you couldn't have been together. Not if he died and you survived." Bile rose in Inar's throat; his stomach churned. He felt hot, then cold, horrified at the calm challenge laid before him, even as the detached voice repeated its terrible words in his mind.

_Let it happen, Ferensfell… you will wait here, boy… _

And _then _those awful words after… after it happened…. Those terrifying, chilling words, in such an offhand voice….

He dared not open his mouth, lest the contents of his stomach empty out onto the floor. He closed his eyes, letting dizziness wash over him.

"I'm sorry." Inar's eyes opened to see a surprisingly remorseful Malvyn before him. "I shouldn't have brought it up. So suddenly, too. I'm sorry- My curiosity will be the end of me…." He trailed off, guilty grimace calming Inar's pounding heart bit by bit. Malvyn evaded his gaze by fiddling with the ring on his finger. "It must have been horrible." Inar could not speak; he only nodded.

"What did I miss?" Rikash stuck his blond head in the room.

"Nothing. We were waiting for you," Malvyn answered, passing Inar to speak to the other mage student. He clapped the squire on the back gently as he went by. Inar clenched the parchment in his hands tightly, trying to push back his thoughts.

"Inar, you look like a ghost," Rikash remarked off-handedly as he made his way to a place by the wall that was out of the way. Inar managed a laugh as he bent down to begin the sketch.

"Start with your feet as the center point," Malvyn commanded. "Make enough room so that you can stand there later." Inar's eyebrows rose, but he obeyed, occupying his mind with potential trouble Malvyn could be brewing, unintentional or otherwise.

"Later?" With a frown, he asked, "So what are you planning to change in this?"

"Just a few tweaks," Malvyn promised, smiling as Inar outlined the design on the floor in charcoal. It was an exact copy of the gate in the tombs below the palace; Inar was making certain of that. He did not relish any mistakes…. Malvyn had told them it was a gate when he first saw the sketch that Rikash gave him, used for all sorts of spells. One small change, and the entire working could be affected. "Nothing large; I _have _studied this sort of thing with Master Taraid." He glanced over at Rikash and gave the youth a small, sympathetic smile. "And you were stuck with Mistress Ianiad and her weavings." Rikash shrugged; frankly, he had not minded, except for that Malvyn had pestered him with little quips about thread spells all of the past year.

"_I _studied with Master Salmalin," Inar said darkly as he finished the gate. He made to leave the center of the drawing, but Malvyn shook his head. "And he never mentioned anything about _gates_."

"Maybe he didn't think you were ready. At the time, of course. If you worked with him _now_, I'm sure he would have brought it up at some time."

"I _do_ work with him," the squire muttered, but Malvyn appeared not to have heard him. Rikash crossed his arms over his chest.

"It's _my _power we're binding," he reminded the two others. "I want to know what you're planning _before _I'm burnt up or flung halfway across the Emerald Sea, Malvyn." The other mage laughed, making Rikash feel foolish for complaining.

"No worries, Salmalin," he answered, bending over to make his own adjustments to the gate. "There'll be no burnings today." Then he tapped the edge of the circle gingerly; it glowed red: the color of his Gift. "Don't move, Ferensfell; there could be complications if you touch the Gate markings."

"Complications?" Inar echoed dubiously. "A very delicate way to tell me I'll burn up." Malvyn laughed. "Would you mind telling me _why _I have to stand here in the first place."

"You are a focusing point for the Gate," the youth answered, striding around the edge of the working. "The sword works as one for the other one."

"Why not find another sword?" Inar muttered, disliking the way the red magic surrounding him made his skin glow.

"And ruin the floor?" Inar rolled his eyes, not bothering to point out the absurdity of Malvyn's defense when all three boys in the room had the Gift. "Just… stay there. It's too late, in any case," he added smugly. Inar shot him a look.

"Malvyn…." The young man ignored him and put a hand down on the Gate. Inar flinched, but nothing happened. Malvyn craned his neck to look at Rikash, who was across from him.

"Salmalin, hands down, same places on that side," he said. "Ferensfell, picture the place you've been sending his Gift." Inar gritted his teeth; there was nothing to do but obey Malvyn's orders. The mage student probably knew more than he ever did, anyway….

When Rikash put his hands on the Gate, smoke snaked upwards from the place where his fingers touched the lines gleaming with Malvyn's Gift. His hands began to glow. The ring on his finger gleamed.

"You're directing Salmalin's Gift to where you usually place it," Malvyn told Inar, who raised an eyebrow.

"What are _you _doing, then?" Rikash knew that Inar had been opposed to this, so much so that he refused to help until he learned Rikash would make the gate himself and the two students would try the working, anyway. Even so, the squire was acting _very _tetchy….

"Adjustments." The red glow brightened. "Now, Ferensfell!" The light pulsed, then exploded, leaving Rikash's sight dark. Images flashed through his mind: swooping over a desert… then Sarra was next to him, smiling- a younger Deryne tagged him before she and Cadel dashed off- Rikash remembered that day… later on, they would be hauled into his father's study for mixing up the nameplates in the nobles' stables…

Then he was looking in haMinch's dark eyes; the man scowled as he took in the boy before him… fights, sparring- he was running down a dark hallway made of uneven, black stone when the images faded out. _Memories, _he realized. _From those inside the spell…. _

Then a temple he had seen before… the one Deryne had been left in by her kidnappers… the city… a gathering of people in a smoky, dim room… the University….

More images came, so fast that Rikash could only make out several….

A small, black cat with purple eyes… a sword that shimmered with an inner light that rose the hairs on the back of his neck… an immense, sprawling city made of black stone, so empty that the air sang around him….

This was where he sensed Malvyn tug away some of his Gift; Rikash suddenly realized his friend had been doing it all along… and Inar had been burying it in the city….

Malvyn whispered a string of words tautly, and Inar flinched; Rikash _felt _the motion rather than saw it….

_Is this how Deryne feels? _he wondered. _All the time? _

He forced his eyes open to look at his friend, standing in the center of the gate. Rikash could not see the squire; his features were blurred, doubled as the magics- amber and red twisted in a huge column with flecks of blue-white- whipped around him. Rikash blinked once to clear his vision, and Inar stood there, grimacing. His face was twisted, his head shaking back and forth. His body trembled as Malvyn stopped taking Gift from Rikash; he slumped, fists clenched as the wave of mixed amber and red Gifts collapsed back upon him, an orange cascade of magic that pounded down on the squire. It forced Inar to his knees, then disappeared. All Rikash could hear was the young man's heavy breathing as he moved his hand gingerly.

"What was that?" the student mage hissed, dashing to Inar's side. "Malvyn! What did you do?" He put a hand on Inar's shoulder. "Inar? You all right?" The youth winced.

"Pretty good, considering," he rasped, face turning up to Rikash. His eyes were confused, his brow furrowed as he thought. His faraway eyes made Rikash guess that he was trying to understand what had just happened.

"You should go and rest," Malvyn said, appearing by Inar's side. He kicked the details of the gate- once again only charcoal- away. "You should think a bit, I believe." Still disorientated, Inar turned to the other young man and nodded, letting his two friends help him up.

"I owe you," he said unsteadily, clutching Malvyn's arm. Then he took a few steps by himself and exhaled slowly. "Thanks. I'll… see you soon, then?" Rikash frowned.

"You're going back?" Inar nodded, still frowning.

"I need to, don't I?" he asked, voice faint. Rikash shot a worried look at Malvyn, who gestured for the squire to leave.

"Kasey can walk you to the palace, easily," the other youth said, naming one of the apprentices. "Just tell him I'm calling in the favor." Inar nodded silently and left. Rikash turned on his fellow student.

"What was that?" he hissed. Malvyn watched the door for another moment, then scowled.

"I thought he was stronger," he said simply, sounding disappointed. "But I kept him from losing control there in the end." He cleared his throat. "You see, Salmalin, you've been casting aside power since you and Inar have used this working to keep your Gift under control. Do you know how much of a waste that is?" Rikash snorted.

"I've always got more at my disposal." Malvyn eyed him with curiosity.

"Endless power, you think?" he said dryly, shaking his head. "_Anyway_… even if _you _are unstoppable, Salmalin, that sort of power could be invaluable for someone else, if _you _insist you don't need it." Rikash frowned.

"What are you getting at?" Malvyn grinned.

"Think about it; You know how healers and blasting mages tire. How everyone runs out of power in the midst of a long trial… remember the sickness, a few years ago? What about during wars? Salmalin, you could tap _into _this excess power, instead of abandoning it to rot, if you keep a link between yourself and that magic in the transport spell." His smile widened. "Think about it." Rikash's eyes grew huge.

"That's enough power to keep all of Scanra at bay," he breathed. "To fight back raiders… and the _immortals_…."

"Now you see it," Malvyn said, eyes gleaming. "And you could give other mages power when they ran dry, too… healers could save every man they touched, instead of being forced to watch men _die_ because their Gifts were exhausted." Rikash shivered; could he do that? Did he have _that _much power? "All it would take are a few spells, surely…." Malvyn's teeth shone as he held up a glittering, red hand. "Nothing I- _we_- couldn't do."

* * *

"The young men have always snuck out to the Cursed City," the ancient man at the cloth booth complained. Sir Alan's face was composed into a polite, attentive gaze. "Fools, all of them. _We _old men remember the days when the demons ruled over there, before the days of the Bright Ones. It is folly to tarry there, not a way to prove one's manhood!" Deryne bit her lip; despite the amount of time she had spent with her knight master, she still felt awkward following him around like a pup. She itched to wander off by herself; there could be no huge surprises for her in an open city market.

But a squire followed his- or _her_- knight master around without a word; that was the _point_. And Sir Alan _had _waited until almost halfway through September to leave Corus. Deryne had had plenty of time to spend with her friends. Enough time to have Cadel defeat her unerringly, despite her unfair advantage, which he had glorified in as a way to improve instead of complaining about. Enough time to see both Mequen and Aloin leave. Enough time to dally days away with Vanora and sometimes nine-year-old Corine, too. Enough time to notice how Leo was alone without his older friends… and to see that Vanora sympathized with the poor prince.

So she could not blame anyone but herself if she was uncomfortable with Sir Alan after several months of being his squire. He was kind but reserved, for the most part. And Deryne had known he was kind; in fact, she remembered _very _keenly how he had seen her crying at the Swoop and seemed at a loss as to what he could do to help a little girl. But he _had _tried. And- _somehow_- he still had a good enough opinion of her to want the crier as a squire. Deryne cringed.

_His mother must have made him, _she thought, not feeling at all grateful towards the red-headed, temperamental legend.

"And _then _when Feram disappeared, they _still _went and came back with stories about shadows that moved across the buildings when there was no cloud nor bird in the sky! And they were _proud_, strutting about this city with their tales! But did they stop when others began to disappear? _No! _More started to go, and brag that they came back! But so many more didn't! It's getting worse! Soon, none of them will escape the Black City!" Deryne looked at Sir Alan, who nodded with a faint frown as he listened. "I _told _them-" By the way the old man was ranting, they could be there for awhile. She shook her head; the soft buzzing of _gudruna _was beginning to wear down the walls in her mind. The squire would _need _to leave soon, or risk having all the thoughts and motion of a busy marketplace running rabid in her mind. Already, the indignation of their new friend and the excitement of having two listening ears was blatantly staring Deryne in the face, as much as she strived to force a wall between her and her magic.

_Anyone could see that, _she told herself crossly. _It's not because I can't keep the gudruna out that I can read him like a book…. _With that thought, she sank into her own little world of thought, hoping that it might distract her from her surroundings. Her fingers turned a miniature kestrel around as she felt the carvings. Duskwing had come with them; she was accustomed to the occasional comments from the Chamber, which had subsided since her kidnapping. Perhaps he had been supposed to save her from that, and, though he had failed to do that, his duties with her were fulfilled. After all, she was not a small, frightened girl without a clue how to use her Gift anymore. She could _fly. _And Numair could not sneak up on her in his random tests of her connection with the _gudruna. _Finally, she could keep the voices in her head down to a minimum, and ignore motions to the point that they only came to her attention when the person in question was going to touch her. She was a squire now, with no more use for a talking bird than she had for her old page uniforms.

She was pleasantly surprised when she heard Sir Alan's goodbye to the merchant. "Come, squire," he ordered after dropping a coin in the man's hand, and Deryne smirked slightly as the old man finally noticed her plaited hair and eyed her again with suspicion in his eyes. Apparently- and fortunately- her loose clothes allowed her a subtle disguise as well as free movement. She resisted the urge to blow him a kiss and followed her knight master through the crowd. "I'll have to find a mage to send a message to the Own," he told her, brow furrowed. "But first I think we'll have to check out these _shadows _everyone's been fretting about; we don't want a fuss where there's no need." Deryne frowned.

"We're going-" As much as the idea intrigued her, she kept the danger in mind. Sir Alan smiled absently.

"To the beginning of my mother's legacy?" he asked dryly. "Surely her son has nothing to fear from bedtime stories she's long defeated?" Deryne wanted to argue, but she kept her mouth shut. Sir Alan _was _polite and as open-minded as a knight could be- with the Lioness as a mother, how could he be anything else?- but Deryne knew better than to interrupt a man to whom she owed respect and obedience. "No worries, squire?" Deryne shrugged, then made herself answer properly.

"Of course I do, sir, though it matters little." The knight smiled.

"You're very formal, Queenscove." The girl could not help but retort with the impudent reply on her tongue.

"Shall I take that an insult, sir?" Deryne asked with a small smile of her own. Her gamble was rewarded with a short laugh.

"Always," he chuckled, then sighed. "But these shadows sound like the immortals that-" He stopped; Deryne nearly ran into him.

"What immortals?" she asked quietly. Her knight master glanced over at the dried fruit displayed on a counter.

"Those are surprisingly fresh," he said, picking up a wrinkly berry as he pulled out coins. "Not a maggot in sight." Deryne smiled, but tasted the treat he bought her with the feeling that she had just been deprived of something worth far more.

* * *

A bedraggled youth in farmer's clothes wandered through the gates of Corus, mouth agape. In the few seconds that it took for him to take in his first sight of the bustling city, small hands grabbed the back of his shirt and cut his purse. Bewildered, the young man whipped around, but saw no one but a very large, grumpy merchant hauling a cart behind him. He smiled at the glowering man and slipped through the crowd, neck craned as he looked this way and that.

His purse was gone.

* * *

Burning. That was the last thing he remembered….

Stab by sword, death by flame.

It was amusing, at the time…. It seemed his vanquisher could not do without him; his arch enemy continued to leave a path which he could crawl, slowly but surely, back out of death's clutches. There would always be a way, for one as perseverant as he….

He refused to give up, to fade into the Black God's realm… why _should _he, when it was clear he was destined for greater? When he was offered better spoils for continuing to survive?

It would be easy, almost too much so. His old enemies were too weak, too old, to fight him, and the young were too naïve, too inexperienced, to stand up to him. He would cast his shadow across the world quickly… quietly. And by the time anyone realized that the impossible had happened once again in Tortall…. His teeth flashed in a wide grin; the world had changed since he had last stepped in it….

_T__his_ time, there would be no bright-eyed Alan of Trebond to stand in his way, no Lioness to bar the way with her quick sword and sharp tongue.

A laugh that had been ended by his death suddenly bubbled back up to his lips. His body was young and strong; his mind as keen as ever.

The Sorcerer's Sleep had been broken once more….

And_ this _time... there would be no death for him.

* * *

**AN: Haha! Guesses, anyone? Any NO WAYs, I CAN'T BELIEVE ITs, or I KNEW ITs? Feel free to leave me a note! (and I'll write you sometime in early August ASAP- I want to find out what happens, too...) ;D As a rule of thumb, the more reviews I get, the faster I write! (it worked this time...)**


	30. Chapter 29: Fools Rush In

AN: Here I am again, in spite of hailstorms and lightening and broken ipods and large bears... with the next chapter! Thanks to everyone who reviewed- **Cmyru na Alethaira**, **dares to dream**, **SarahE7191**, **BACswimma**, **Shang Leopard**, **imakeladrygirl**, **Lemondrop xxx**, **Evilstrawberry**, **Lady Indecisive**, **Eternityfalls**, **twilight's reflection**, **Krae Z. Rokke**, **Raine of Tirragen**. And three cheers for my beta, **KyrieofAccender**!

* * *

_Chapter 29_

_Fools Rush In…_

_October 6, 480 H.E. _

"I thought you didn't want Lord Raoul charging in just yet," Deryne said, puzzled, as she and her knight master walked away from the official Crown mage in Persopolis as the man began a speaking spell. Sir Alan was still putting away his purse; he turned to his squire with a grin.

"No, I don't," he agreed. "But that doesn't mean I can't call on someone else in the area. You might know him, actually." Deryne eyed him, a half-smile full of curiosity on her lips.

"Who?" Alan chuckled, shaking his head. "Fine; be mysterious. I'll find out soon enough," she said loftily, squashing the urge to keep asking. The knight looked at her, his knowing eyes twinkling.

"Think of it as an exercise in patience." Deryne snorted.

"Patience? Try being the only girl in a pack of boys all the time, and _then_-" She cut herself off; more and more, it seemed she was inheriting her father's remarkable inability to keep his mouth shut. But the man next to her laughed.

"I'll admit that sounds like a fearsome task," he allowed. "Do you need to check on your bird?" Deryne had left Duskwing tethered to her horse, Zephyr. She shook her head.

"He doesn't need anything," she replied, thinking all the while that if any creature needed checking up on, it would be her fussy stallion. He seemed more troubled this morning with Duskwing on his saddle than the kestrel seemed to be. The knight shook his head.

"I _still _can't believe you left him without a hood," he told the girl. Deryne shrugged.

"He's clever."

"Like all animals Daine's been around," Alan muttered. "Still, intelligence makes it want freedom even more. Causes all sorts of problems when a clever beast's tied up."

"I think the hood would be more trouble than anything that it might hid from Duskwing," the squire said firmly; she had already thought up her argument with a great deal of care. "Besides, he came to me and stayed when I tried to be rid of him, and- if he feels like leaving me- I s'pose he will whether I want him to or not."

"You don't talk about that bird like an animal," Alan noted. Deryne swallowed, then shrugged and walked on quietly, remembering times when the kestrel was much more than a bird.

* * *

"That's it!" Rikash huffed, hauling his blankets off of himself to glare accusingly at the empty bed across the room. Malvyn had snuck out.

Without him.

_Again. _Rikash cursed the other mage fervently as he wiped sleep from his eyes.

"Pus-boiled maggot-" Malvyn's visits to his blasted coterie were growing more and more frequent. At first, he had apologized to Rikash, because they would have to put any explorations of Corus on hold. Now, he never even _told _Rikash that he was going somewhere! They made no plans anymore for any outlawed excursions, although their experiments were growing more wild and complex by the day.

But this time, Rikash would be telling his friend what _he _thought about the stupid little group of his… even if it meant waiting all night!

Muttering under one's breath and stewing all night took a more steady and slowing-burning fury than Rikash had; Malvyn only crept in when Rikash was about to go back to sleep, but seeing his fellow mage's cocky entrance awakened Rikash from his groggy stupor.

"Why don't you take me?" he demanded heatedly, ignoring the stirs of the apprentices around them. Malvyn whipped around, startled, but he composed his face by the time he met Rikash's eyes. "What's so _special _that you sneak out and can't bother to bring me with you, huh?" Malvyn opened his mouth to respond, but the tall blond mage had had enough. He stood up, glaring. "And don't change the subject, or try to stall!"

"I'm going to take you soon!" Malvyn answered, voice so calm Rikash wanted to spit. "Stop acting like a hissy child in a fit!" He laughed. "Soon, Salmalin. But one doesn't take a great mage like yourself and fling him into a group like that!" Rikash frowned, confused. "As good a group as they are, they are many who would want to cause trouble, or be a false friend." Crossing the room, he patted Rikash on the back. "But soon. And even before that- perhaps tonight- we'll go out into the city." His eyes gleamed. "And even before _that_- I'll tell you what I found out tonight. I know what we need to do now, to channel the Gift between you and others. We can try it after class." Disgruntled by Malvyn's immediate and unforeseen acquiesce- he had wanted a fight- Rikash turned away and crawled back onto his bed.

"Awake all night for nothing," he muttered to himself. Malvyn laughed.

"That worried about me? Salmalin, I'm touched."

* * *

Most of those Deryne remembered from her childhood days were much larger then than they were now, giants with loud voices she could only distantly recall. This was _not _the case with Tkaa; if anything, he was _bigger _than she remembered.

The tall, repitilian immortal surveyed her with unblinking eyes; Deryne swallowed heavily and bowed. It was only a few hours since the mage had called him; Tkaa had probably galloped miles to arrive so quickly.

"I thought you and Kit were-" Her words trailed off.

"We returned. Only a few months ago," the immortal replied after waiting politely for a moment. "And it seems that I came back at a good time."

"Just in time to be pestered by the king and his mages about immortal shadows," Alan said dryly. Tkaa smiled; Deryne looked between the two with interest.

"As I said… my return was well-timed."

"And do you know what these reports describe?" the knight asked. "The sightings?" The immortal sighed, a long, whispery sound that sent a shiver through Deryne.

"Creatures of Chaos, perhaps," he replied. "I can think of no better answer, but I have never heard of such things in my travels, no."

"I guess we'll be finding out, then," Deryne said wryly, unable to keep herself from touching the hilt of the short sword Sir Alan had given her. Tkaa noticed, and smiled at her.

"You have no need for that yet," he told her, and she nodded.

"That's probably true… sir," she added, unsure of how to address him.

"Tkaa is fine," the immortal told her. "If we are to be fighting together." The squire grimaced.

"Scouting only," Alan told Tkaa, who gave the man a wide-eyed stare that made Deryne think that he would be raising his eyebrows, if he had had any.

"I've heard many people say that before," he said, voice dry. Deryne guessed that- more often than not- the "only scouting" turned into combat. "When do we leave?"

* * *

The name made sense. The City was not only made up of black, smooth rock; there was a darkness that seemed to creep through the air, preserving the towers and streets below, so forboding not even the wind-whipped sand touched the city.

"I can see how _anybody _might say they saw shadows here," Alan muttered, patting his mount's neck. Deryne eyed Zephyr warily; he was certainly not the most valiant horse ever bred and raised.

"You've got more brains than I do," the squire muttered as he began to retreat slowly. "Tkaa-?" The basilisk put a hand on Zephyr, then held onto his reins tightly until Deryne slid off the nervous animal. Then she untethered Duskwing and put on the gloves that would protect her arm from his talons. The bird did not move from his perch when she offered her arm, so she turned away. "Might be safer for me," she said with a laugh, looking up at her knight master. Alan considered this for a moment, then nodded and dismounted.

"We don't want to rush in here, anyway," he said quietly. "We need to watch our backs…." He looked up at the afternoon sun and grimaced. "I wanted to get here earlier, but it would have been too hot for us and the horses." Deryne nodded. "But we're out of here well before dusk, understand?" She nodded again. "No matter what interesting clue we find; we're scouts only." Hearing these words again made Deryne sneak a look at Tkaa. The immortal was looking around. Then he took a few steps through the gate, stopping to run an eerily-shaped hand over a wall.

"The carvings are exquisite," he murmured. "These here would be the demons- the Ysandir." Tugging on Zephyr's reins, Deryne hauled him over to where Tkaa stood to gaze at the pictures. They were tall, beautiful people, but their faces were scornful, their hands outstretched as if to snatch an observer away and into their stone world. Deryne shivered.

"What are they?" she whispered as she raised her hand to hover above the stone, not quite daring to run her fingertips across the grooves. Tkaa looked at her with surprised eyes.

"What, you ask? They are the Ysandir; that is the only word this language has for them." Deryne frowned.

"But where'd they come from?" Tkaa looked back.

"Their origins were lost a long time ago," he murmured, voice faraway. "And all those who had known feared to speak- and so the demons became the nameless, faceless monsters. The Ysandir." The air seemed to tremble at the word. Deryne shuddered; she would not be surprised if the word somehow summoned the creatures back to life…. "Nothing to define them but the disappearances and a name that does not say nearly enough." Alan came up behind them.

"What does their name mean?" he asked, voice a rumble as he gazed down along the wall; the carvings never ended.

"Not much," Tkaa said, bending down to look closer. "They are the Nameless- the Feared…. The Bound, now. They match the Old Ones- they _would _be Old Ones… stronger and weaker than the gods, at once."

"How so?" Deryne asked, puzzled despite an urge to follow Zephyr's shuffling towards the door.

"They were more in tune with humans," the basilisk answered. "More aware. More influential."

Deryne wanted to ask more questions, but suddenly the arm holding her mount's reins jerked backwards as Zephyr reared, backing up before reeling away, his eyes rolling. The squire sucked in a harsh breath as she fell, releasing her grip on the beast. Duskwing soared in the air, screeching. Tkaa whipped around; Alan drew his sword, then pursued his squire's fleeing mount to the open gate the stallion was headed for. As the horse wheeled around and out of the City, the knight stopped where he was and swore.

"What?" Deryne leaped to her feet and pulled out her own blade before taking a few steps towards Alan, who pointed out into the desert. Allowing her hovering kestrel to rest on her left arm, Deryne followed his gaze out onto the dunes but saw nothing. As he took a few steps away from the wall they had been studying. Tkaa hissed softly under his breath.

_Then _Deryne saw it, on the hazy horizon: a wild cloud of dust, spraying sand this way and that. Instinctively, she raised the hand with Duskwing on it, pulling in soft breezes and pushing them back out to feel out the dust storm heading towards them.

"Can you push it back?" Alan asked tersely. Deryne narrowed her eyes as _gudruna _flooded back to her. Winds churned faster than she had ever forced them to go; something fed them, made them malevolent as the demons this City once housed.

"And maybe it still does," the girl muttered under her breath as she sent her Gift out to urge the gusts away. Her magic had as much effect as an infant's blowing on a castle wall did; if anything, the winds tore around faster. "Can't stop it," she hissed through gritted teeth, summoning more and more force to form a shield of air in front of the storm.

"Try pulling it apart," Tkaa said quietly as he studied it. "It's moving slow." Deryne laughed breathlessly.

"This far away, anybody would think that," she mumbled.

"I meant its path towards _us _is slow," the immortal replied. "You have time to tear it apart, one gust at a time." Deryne tried, coaxing and yanking the breezes away; they came back the moment her hold left them, no matter how far away she sent them. Across the sea, they spun back into the storm, with more force from their whirlwind journey than ever. She swore as the storm grew.

"It's growing," she said darkly, even though it had only moved a few hundred feet in their direction. Her knight master took a step outside the City gates with his own mount; suddenly the storm rushed forwards, crossing the desert with ease.

"No!" Deryne cried, shoving more magic into a shield that scattered under the weight of the sandstorm. She couldn't breathe-

Alan jumped back inside; it slowed to its earlier speed. Alan and Tkaa exchanged a look as she finally pulled her Gift back.

"Let me guess," the knight said dryly. "If we leave, it hurries along to overtake us." He and Deryne grimaced at the same moment.

"And if we stay," his squire finished with the same voice. "It'll be here by nightfall. And keep us here." All three scouts looked dismally up at the sun. It would be several hours before it set.

"Yes," was all Tkaa said before he turned back to look at the City. "The storm might even go around this place, but it seems that _something _is trying to keep us here." Chills ran up Deryne's spine. Alan laughed shortly.

"I knew somebody who can paralyze anything with a look would be useful," he muttered. Tkaa looked back with a small smile.

"As I have said, several times: I have good timing."

* * *

"What are we doing?" Kasey Biter asked, eyes gleaming as he bounced on the bed, just enough to make his excitement obvious. Malvyn smiled, while Rikash bit his tongue just in time to stop a caustic reply.

"We needed a third person to help us, and- out of everybody here-" He jerked his head around to show he meant the apprentice dorm. "You were the clear choice." Kasey's grin grew. "Best for the job." Rikash snorted quietly; Kasey was mediocre, at best. Why did Malvyn bother with the small twit? And why keep on praising him, if he _had _to use the apprentice? It was irritating.

"We could have used Inar," he reminded his fellow mage sharply, but Malvyn shook his head with an outraged expression on his face.

"What? The squire?" he exclaimed. "When Kasey's around?" He pointed to the center of the floor as the younger boy beamed. "Stand there, and we'll be ready in a few moments." Then Malvyn bent over, beginning to outline a Gate on the floor. Rikash frowned.

"Where's the sketch from Inar?" he asked. Malvyn waved an absent-mined hand at his friend.

"I don't need _that_," he said absently, ending his first line with a swirl. "This is easier." It didn't _look _easier; it was far more complex than the other one. Larger, too. "Taraid made me memorize this one and a few others, for practice." Malvyn finished the Gate quickly, leaving a jumpy Kasey in the center. "Salmalin, step back," he ordered, blue eyes gleaming as he rubbed his hands together. "I want you watching. You'll make the notes after we're done. Don't even blink."

"Tall order," Rikash muttered; Malvyn laughed as his companion sat down on his bed, out of the way. So now Malvyn was excluding _him _in favor of the little boy who still had no idea what was going on. Maybe in a few years, Kasey Biter would be suitable. Not now- he probably couldn't even Summon well yet! Rikash gritted his teeth and glared down at the spell work as Malvyn crouched, fingers quivering as he held them above the Gate. Then he shoved them to the floor; red light spilled across the Gate, lighting up Kasey's face.

"Do as I told you before," the older boy instructed, and Rikash's frown deepened. So Malvyn was discussing this before with the little apprentice, too? He hadn't bothered to clue his best friend in to whatever this was!

But, then again, that was because Malvyn didn't _need _Rikash's help in this. The mage ground his teeth together, watching through his long bangs. He should just shave his head again… burn it all off, maybe….

Kasey closed his eyes; his skin began to glitter, and his hand filled with his green magic. Then Malvyn shifted, and his red Gift began to rise, crawling out of the Gate's outline and towards Kasey. Rikash had an impulse to shout out a warning to Kasey, but ignored it, fists clenched. Maybe Malvyn _would _make a mistake, and then he would see how inept the apprentice was in containing the trouble.

Kasey began to glow red, Malvyn's Gift bleeding into his until there was no more green. Up and up, the magic rose, reaching for the ceiling. It was like trying to look underwater; Kasey's image was distorted by the ripples caused by the flow of magic. At the very top of the column, Rikash could see his own Gift- stored away by the spell- spiraling down to touch the new magic….

As they touched, the air in the room seemed to pulse. Then it exploded. Rikash was thrown off of his bed, blankets following, as light swept around the room and disappeared. He struggled to his feet to glower at Malvyn, but his eyes first caught sight of Kasey.

The boy was unconscious. Rikash was across the room in two strides, kicking up the Gate and cursing as he went.

"It worked," Malvyn said, jubliation in his voice as Rikash felt for the apprentice's pulse. It was there. "He just wasn't prepared, is all-" Feeling for his fiery magic, Rikash grabbed it and shot a small bit through Kasey's arm. The boy sat up with a harsh gasp, eyes bright. Rikash pounded him on the back as he began to cough.

"You all right?" he asked harshly. Kasey looked at him, surprised.

"Of course," he answered through the coughs. "Why wouldn't I be?" Rikash whipped around to stare at Malvyn, who approached. The brown-haired mage helped his younger fellow student up and patted him on the back.

"Excellent!" he said. "But you should go to your room and get some sleep."

"This is my room," Kasey said, yawning.

"Go to Sajle's room," Malvyn ordered. "Across the hall; tell him I'm cashing in that favor. There's an extra bed in there. We'll clean up. " Eyes drooping, the boy nodded before turning towards the door.

"I should make sure he gets there," Rikash muttered. "That he doesn't collapse-" Malvyn barred his way with an arm.

"He'll be quite fine," he said calmly. "We have to talk." His triumphant smile did not affect Rikash, who spat out his next words.

"Oh, we'll talk, all right. What did you just do to that kid?" Malvyn rolled his eyes.

"I took his magic. Nothing big." Rikash's jaw dropped; nothing _big_?

"What dung are you taking?" he hissed. Malvyn laughed.

"Not his Gift, Salmalin. Just his strength. The reason he fainted was he just didn't loop off his end of the spell right- the next time, he-"

"_Next _time?" Rikash asked incredulously. "The next time you suck someone dry?" Malvyn snorted.

"Don't go acting all dainty and weak, now, Ri," he complained. "I told him the whole thing- go ask him tomorrow. It was nothing he didn't agree to, and I _demonstrated_ several times how to cut off the magic flow. He messed up, big time."

"You should have been watching for a mess," Rikash retorted vehemently, though he couldn't help noticing his friend did not call him Salmalin, or even Rikash. Malvyn grimaced.

"You're right about that," he admitted. "That _was _my fault. I should have been watching out for that."

"It could've killed him," Rikash muttered, turning away at the same moment to study the remaining part of the Gate. He felt silly, being such a damper when Malvyn had just done what they had been working towards. Sort of. "Why take his power, anyway? I thought we were practicing _giving _it."

"We need to know the operation backwards and forwards," Malvyn replied firmly. Rikash nodded in agreement; that made sense. "And besides… the more that are in on this, the better." He smiled. His brilliant teeth gleamed in the light from the fireplace. "Any apprentice who wants some extra power can come… but we don't want someone who just comes in for help. It's only fair, if you think about it; to be in on this- and everything else _we _do, you and me, Rikash- they need to _give_, too."

* * *

"Locked," Deryne said, trying to jiggle the door open as the breezes she commanded struggled to undo the bolts and failed. "This place seems proofed for magic- even my wind tricks aren't working." She glared at the sealed doors. "Unless someone knew of power like mine, they never would've thought to make locks like these!" she ranted, though she doubted it. It seemed her Gift was one of a kind.

But then another thought crept up on her.

_Old magic…. _That was what those strange few said cryptically about her Gift. And if this City was anything, it was old. Ancient.

Turning her back on the door, she dashed back down the stairs to where Alan waited with his horse. Tkaa was checking the other side of the street for some sort of shelter, though they had agreed not to enter any of the dark, tall buildings unless it was necessary. No safe haven- from the storm, at least- had revealed itself yet. Everything was shut. And the sun was ready to set…. They were a ways into the City; they would be unable to tell when the sandstorm broke over it. If it did at all….

They walked on until a courtyard broke the terrifying monotony of towering buildings. The rock beneath their feet was smooth; in the center of the space was a gold and black temple that seemed to whisper at them.

"Don't," Tkaa said flatly before wandering around the edge of the expanse before them to try other buildings. It took several minutes, but the basilisk managed to run a check around the courtyard while Deryne and her knight master watched the temple warily. The kestrel on her arm made a small, worried noise. The hissing whisper seemed to grow; Deryne resisted the urge to gather _gudruna _in her mind, fearful of what she might find. But then she heard something that sent sharp charges through her veins; the sound was coming from _behind _them…. She turned, just in time to pick up a stray _gudruna. _

The sand was coming. It was _there. _Grabbing Sir Alan, Deryne cried out to Tkaa as she dragged her knight master towards the temple. Duskwing took flight, reaching the door long before anyone who could open it.

"Nothing else is _open_!" she shouted back as the immortal opened his mouth to protest. With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she realized that this was what the thing that sent the storm had intended; they were being herded and driven like sheep. Still, she hardly cared as they reached the steps. Looking back over her shoulder, she caught sight of the wild sand as it tore into the square. Tkaa galloped past them, taking Alan's reins from his hand. Somehow, the immortal sent the panicked animal up the stairs and through the doors, which opened with a touch. Deryne was not surprised. The first winds were reaching them; sand scratched at her bare skin and blinded her. Dirt tore through her throat as she struggled to breathe; the roar of the gusts made her head spin. Clutching her sword, she kept going. She did not need to see her destination to reach it. Still, she stumbled when the steps ended, nearly tripping her knight master, but Tkaa grabbed each and tugged them inside before closing the door behind them.

Instantly, the sound of the storm was silenced. Deryne frowned as she let _gudruna _wash over her.

The sandstorm was gone; its task was completed. Without expecting any success, she tugged at the door. It did not move. She turned around; a chilling green-yellow light seeped through the air, lighting the glassy walls from every which way. At the end of the room, there was a dark altar that had the air of a forsaken power, abandoned to rot inside this stuffy shrine for eternity.

"Right, then," she croaked. Her throat burned as she hefted her blade. "Let's find out who's here."

* * *

**AN: Contrary to popular belief, I do not resurrect EVERYONE. ;D**

**I am looking forward to guesses and comments... and thank you again, to all those who reviewed- feel free to keep it up! :D**


	31. Chapter 30: More Questions to Answer

**AN: **_Thanks to all my readers, and to Tamora Pierce for this little world, which is hers. I'm just playing in it._

To my reviewers- **Shang Leopard**, **Cymru na Alethaira**, **Lemondrop xxx**, **Evilstrawberry**, **BACswimma**, **Eternal Cosmic Sailor Saturn**, **Heiress of Lohaust**- thanks. I find it intriguing that using the "I write faster with reviews" seems to produce double the result... ;D Anyway, thank you, and I hope this continues to hold your interest. I've made a hard core outline for the rest of this story... it's near to the end now, I promise! ;D Thanks for staying with! And a shout out to my beta, **KyrieofAccender**! Thanks...

* * *

_Chapter 30_

_More Questions To Answer_

Tkaa motioned for both of his companions to wait. The basilisk took a few steps forward, listening intently as Deryne held her breath. The immortal reached the altar before them without incident.

The silence rang in her ears.

"I-" Tkaa held up a hand, head cocked to the side as he frowned.

"Something-" Then he fell quiet again, eyes narrowed.

A faint rustling noise reached Deryne's ears- the sounds of whispery cloth and the crashing of waves on the beach, growing as she listened.

Alan's grip on his sword tightened. Then he followed Tkaa to the altar and looked off to the side. The knight tapped his comrade on the shoulder and pointed to the left of where they stood. Deryne followed their gazes, but her view was obscured by one of the many columns between them. She crept forwards, the glow from the walls dimly lighting her way.

Both Alan and Tkaa were staring at a large doorway that opened to a dark passageway lit by torches, bright flames along one side. They were not enough to illuminate the heavy darkness within… and Deryne sensed there was a reason for this.

After all, _something _was down there; the rustling, squeaking sound echoed through the blackness, growing in volume as the three intruders gazed down the tunnel.

A light- the final one Deryne could make out before the darkness claimed the hallway- went out. Then another. And another. Deryne watched, panic growing as the torched were snuffed out in quick succession.

"Close the doors," her knight master ordered tersely, grabbing one of the double doors. "Queenscove! Deryne!" He shoved his door shut with a grunt, but his squire did not move. She could have sworn she had just seen a flash of color in the darkness. Eyes, perhaps? And she thought she had seen a shadow- a dark, bat-like wing- in the light of a torch just before it was doused. "Deryne!" Tkaa was already there, yanking at the door's handle. By the time Deryne stepped forward to help, both doors were shut. Alan jammed them with a well-placed dagger before turning to the girl.

"I saw something," she whispered. The knight nodded, face dark.

"I did, too," he said. "But that doesn't mean you should stop following orders," he rebuked gently. Face flushed, Deryne looked down and nodded. "It's the duty of a knight to move and think fast, even- especially- when others cannot." He was right. She should've- "I'm not angry at all; I'm just reminding you, Deryne." That didn't help her chagrin; she should not need such reminders….

"I'm sorry," she said lowly before forcing herself to look up and hold her knight master's gaze. Knights did not hang their heads. A small smile touched Alan's lips- reassurance that Deryne welcomed despite her guilt.

Then something slammed into the door. Deryne leapt away from it, eyes wide with alarm, just as the second blow shook the doors.

"Deryne," Tkaa hissed. "A seal. Put one on the door." Hand instinctively reaching into her pocket for the small figurine Cadel had given her several years ago- one in the shape of a kestrel- Deryne bit her lip. Numair had only spent a little time on seals with her. They preferred to test her own unique powers. "Now!"

She would have to improvise.

Brow furrowed, she summoned her Gift to her fingertips. Hand glowing a pale gray-blue, she touched the door, just as the next hostile knock came. The wood was beginning to splinter and crack… Trembling, the squire traced a circle the length of her armspan. The larger the seal was, the better. Wherever she touched, a glowing line of magic remained.

Then she rested her hand on the circle's center, on top of the tiny crack between the doors.

"Frejonak," she murmured, recalling the name of the god who took kestrels under his wing. Cadel had said her little statue was lucky; she needed luck now. "Give me strength." She wasn't like Rikash, with enough force to do whatever he wanted with a wave of the hand and a glare. Her Gift was powerful, but more subtle than his. He would be more suited to this task- a shield of sheer power and strength- than she was.

Her eyes fell shut; her hand seemed to melt into the door and the spell now written on it. As the creature behind the doors smashed into the barrier once more, an unearthly scream tore from it, only inches away and separated from Deryne by only wood and whatever magic she had.

In her mind, a rushing snarl answered the beast behind the doors, and everything around her was quiet; Deryne felt as though her ears had stopped working, like there was a wall between her and the rest of the world. But the snarl- reminiscent of a _gudruna_- in her mind only grew, drowning out all thought as it continued its invasion. It was not her, whatever it was… a threat, aimed not at her, but at her enemy. A warning that stole the rasp of every breath she had ever taken, and doubled them by a thousand fold… perhaps more.

A hand seemed to take hers; Deryne clutched the tiny kestrel in her fist as though it was her only lifeline.

Then the hand seemed to tug at something deep inside her… magic streamed through her arms and hands, into designs she lost track of as a face finally unveiled itself to her, one feature at a time.

Fine cheekbones… a full, sharp face with a furious scowl… eyes narrowed in concentration… eyes that matched _hers_….

Frejonak. This wild, fierce face could belong to that northern god, of icy mountain gusts. Deryne's stomach knotted; her muscles shook, threatening to collapse on her.

It had only been a prayer. What interest could he have taken in _her_? She wasn't even a northerner in Tortall, let alone someone used to the bitter and long winters of Scanra! How could _she_, Deryne of Queenscove, lowly girl squire, have _summoned _him?

As though he heard the thought, the god glanced at her, features instantly bright and reckless.

"How could I not come when you call?" he asked, laughter in his voice as he reached out- Then he was gone, and Deryne fell, stumbling away from the door with a gasp. She opened her eyes as Alan caught her.

"Are you all right?" he asked, stunned. Deryne did not answer; she was staring at the seal, which had grown over the entire door.

Runes and swirls Deryne could not understand were crammed and weaved in complex patterns, their significance lost on her. Pictures and lines, all burned into the seal in her own Gift. The whole working bore down on her with a weight Deryne felt settling over her entire body. She had made it… _she _had made this enormous- Shaking her head, she searched for a single familiar rune. She found none.

Tkaa held a hand out towards the spell, eyes wide.

"How did you do this?" the basilisk asked, an edge in his quiet voice. Deryne was lost for words; she only shook her head slowly.

"What is it?" Alan asked, which seemed a foolish question to Deryne that needed a pert answer. _A seal- _But she could not reply.

"A language only the most learned can recognize," the immortal said darkly. "Dragons _might _be able to pick out a few familiar signs… but they could not tell you what they meant. This is a language whose meaning has been lost to all, mortal and immortal." The girl's eyes widened; her mind flurried back to Frejonak.

_How could I not come when you called? _The mere memory of the words sent a chill through her.

"I- a god," she stuttered. Both of her companions turned to look at her. "Frejonak, maybe? Would he- would they- gods, I mean-" Tkaa shook his head.

"Perhaps a god used you for the working," he said doubtfully. "But either the gods know and they want to share it with the undivine, or they want to hide it. And since they've kept it all this time, it seems to me to be the latter. And if it was…." He stopped, looking pointedly to Deryne just as a bolt of understanding shot through her.

"Then why would a god risk showing it now to me?" she mused. "You're right; there's not much sense here."

"If the gods were hiding something like this," Tkaa said slowly. "None would _dare _to chance having a scenario in which a small farmer's children even caught a _glimpse_ of it." Alan frowned, catching on to the threat.

"So what would be the point of hiding it and _using _it through a powerful mage, training under Numair Salmalin and in the company of a basilisk who could identify it? Aren't there spells, to make Deryne project the spell, even if this one fades or gets ruined?" Tkaa answered him with a sharp nod. "What god would do that?"

"_A God who owes nothing to the others, perhaps," _a female voice sang through the air. Deryne stiffened. Tkaa spun around soundlessly; Alan whipped around with his sword raised. _"Or one who cares less about allegiances to his kind… and more for his vow and orders from the Old Order." _Tkaa's eyes grew huge.

"Old Order?" he whispered softly into the still air. The voice laughed sweetly.

_"Basilisk… so used to the rumors and legends. So tired of them; they repeat every hundred years or so, don't they? The stories, all so similar…. Champions rise and fall. The Terrier, the Boar, the Warrior, the Lioness… fading or gone. And then there are those hisses in the dark. Maybe an old nursery rhyme with a ring of the truth. The Old Order… how an elusive story intrigues you, immortal. Never quite lost, but never quite there, is it? There is a reason for that, you know. The Old Ones shield themselves from the gods now." _Coldness trickled down Deryne's spine.

"Old Ones?" A new voice came, a dark, male one.

_"Little girl, so curious." _His words were tinged with maliciousness. _"Stand down, knight. If we were able to harm you, your pitiful weapons could do nothing to us." _Deryne shivered. _"Frejonak has long been banned from here, along with all the other gods. I would seek his counsel in another place, girl."_

Out of the many questions rushing through her mind, Deryne could only voice one.

"Banned?" she croaked, throat smarting.

"_All of them," _the female chimed back in. "_The Old Ones protected their oldest fortresses, blocking those who wander the Divine Halls unscorched from coming. There is a penalty for intruding now." _Deryne frowned.

"Why?"

"_Because the gods were troubled, as usual." _The squire could hear the smirk in the man's voice. "_Troubled enough to go after the Old Ones… because of all our power, locked forever in such gentle hands." _His eyes seemed to rove in the direction of the seal. _A Nameless language, _he whispered. _In a Nameless Place, for a Nameless People. The Old Ones were envied. They knew so much… things the gods could not make sense out of…. _Deryne titled her head to the side, squinting into the darkness.

"I'm not sure I understand," she admitted.

_"The Old Ones- elementals, spirits, weavers- we were the balance, between man and god. We could enter minds, tip the scales in our favor… while the gods were banned from that sort of interference."_ He laughed softly. _"Gods tend to battle amongst each other. That is what they care about; their own place in that hierarchy. They use and dispose of man as it pleases them." _Deryne felt chills rush up her spine at such criticism, then prayed that no gods were listening. Not when her blasphemous mind was actually _listening _to the unrepentant voice. _"And it is only coincidence when man and god are united in purpose; for instance, keeping the Queen of Chaos chained was everyone's priority." _The immortal took a deep breath. _"But the Old Ones were too fond of men to involve them in their schemes. Too close to humans to let them fall. They lived together, marveled over the existence of the other_." He paused. _"And so, after a deal with the beautiful divine gods, my brethren and I betrayed the Old Ones and buried them all, with their man-loving ways, and their work to protect man from god. We and the gods were more united in purpose than with the other Old Ones, until we began seeking more power to topple the Realms of the Gods, too." _Deryne grimaced.

"That… makes sense, in some sick way," she muttered, then glanced at Alan, who still seemed a little stunned by the words. "You could be making this all up."

_"Just wait, mortal," _the woman said. _"You haven't heard all. Once you have, it will make too much "sense" to ignore." _Deryne frowned.

"But who are you?"_ Why should I listen to you? _Both voices laughed.

"_You have no time for any more stories, mortal girl." _Deryne's eyes narrowed; the woman's dismissal had been more of a question than a statement. _"Come to the altar, little one." _

"Squire," Alan muttered when Deryne made to obey. "I wouldn't trust anything in here if I were you."

_"But you aren't," _the man said flatly. _"And if you _were_, you would feel just as she does now."_

"Which is?" the knight challenged.

_"You need to trust us," _the woman said, a smirk in her voice.

"Why would that be?" Tkaa asked frostily as he turned his head this way and that.

_"Because you will be trapped here without our advice," _the woman said sweetly. _"The shadows are coming. Or have you not noticed?" _Deryne frowned and looked at her knight master questioningly. The man grimaced.

"The banging's stopped," he told her.

_"Because they are seeking another way in," _the man said. _"And your little mage won't be able to make another one of those seals, even if she had the strength." _

They were right; the girl had suspected something like this all along. Deryne took another step towards the altar. She wasn't tapped out of Gift yet, but that had been an enormous working. No one could do _that _twice, especially now that Frejonak was gone. He must have guided her, created the seal through her.

But why would he _bother_? Bother to come to a place where he supposedly had been banned to save three small lives for another few precious minutes?

"What are they?" Tkaa asked, still looking around.

_"The shadows? Shadows,"_ the woman replied simply. _"Born of Chaos, pulled into being by wicked men. _Terrible _men," _she added with relish. _"But I will say no more. I would like to see this child, who plays with powers that make the gods shiver. To the altar, small one." _It was those words, and the curiosity they gave rise to inside her that finally made Deryne walk over to the altar and look down at the great slab of polished rock. She gasped; two beautiful faces stared back at her, like reflections. She glanced back over her shoulders; no one was there. She recognized the faces….

"Ysandir," she breathed. The woman gave Deryne a bitter smile of razor-sharp teeth.

_"Only two,"_ she retorted. _"Do not trouble your tiny mind. The Bright Ones killed us all, but death is different for Ylon and me."_

"I see," Deryne said, mind working furiously. Ylon smirked, somehow looking down at _her_.

_"No, you do not," _he stated. _"I shall say this, then- Ylanda and I do not surrender to Chaos, and the Black God would never take us into his realms. And only a god has the power to destroy us, and they cannot enter," _he added smugly.

_"The gods had been pulling all strings to get at us here in the Black City," _Ylanda said._ "Sending all sorts of Bahzir, telling them it was their destiny to ruin us…until Jonathon the Voice and Alanna the Lioness came. And then- at last- _They _had the weapons they needed to destroy us." _Deryne ignored the urge to squirm; she fought to keep her face smooth as the words wormed their way into her mind. _"They have started sending more recently, hoping to change the city… block off the temple, perhaps. Seal us forever in darkness. But the Old Ones' magics stand strong. There are very few places as powerful as this one left now," _she sighed, dark eyes staring longingly into the distance. Deryne frowned.

"But why, when you're dead?" she asked. "_If _this is true," she added hastily, seeing the smirk playing across both Ysandir's mouths. "You can't do anymore harm." Ylanda laughed again.

_"Oh… but can't we?" _she sang, making Deryne edge away slightly. _"Look at what we do now- revealing the truth to someone strong enough to do something about it."_

"Do-" Deryne took another step away. "What would you have _me _do?" she asked incredulously. "I-" Ylon was scrutinizing her, a hungry gleam in his black eyes. "Nothing," she said, answering her own question weakly. "Even if I wanted to-"

_"Ask your friend from the Isles," _Ylanda hissed gently. _"Ask her what _she _did. Kyprioth was clever, to win her protector's allegiance. He gained a pretty bit, making use of such power." _Deryne felt cold.

"Cyne?" she asked. The Ysandir ignored her, but Deryne did not need an answer. She would have to write to the girl once she returned to Corus. Maybe before then.

_"We can help you against the shadows," _Ylanda whispered. _"But we would like-" _Her voice faded off in a sigh, her face falling. _"Just a touch, little one. Nothing more. It would soothe the harsh hours, calm the churning storm of day and night in our souls." _

"You have souls?" Deryne muttered under her breath.

_"It has a tongue," _Ylon commented. _"No wonder he chose her." _Ylanda laughed loudly, a hard, guttural bark. Deryne stepped back, bumping into Tkaa. The basilisk had come up behind her.

"Would it- I dunno- restore them or something?" she whispered up to the immortal. Ylon snorted as Tkaa shook his head.

_"You think yourself so mighty, mortal?" _he taunted. Deryne felt a hot blush come into her cheeks.

"How am I supposed to know?" she demanded. "Maybe all it takes is a tap!"

"_Or a spell," _Ylanda said wryly_. "A gate and a little knowing- a twirl here, sacrifice there. We know mages who have been resurrected with less." _Both Ysandir cackled. _"Poor little girl- such deception! There is a tightly woven web around you, isn't there?" _Deryne glared to hide the pit of fear that was growing in her chest. _"Nasty, nasty, isn't it?" _

"I need answers, if I help you," she said, hoping she sounded bolder than she felt. Ylon's smirk grew.

"_But of course, mage. But I would ask about the shadows first, if I were you. Who knows how much we'll feel like telling?" _he drawled, looking over at his companion. _"Come here, then." _ Fists clenched, Deryne returned to her place right beside the altar.

"Are you sure?" she called back, just as Alan asked Tkaa.

"Do it, Deryne," the basilisk replied. Taking a deep breath, Deryne obeyed.

Nothing happened. At least, not to her. Her palm pressed into the altar, her fingers splayed just enough to touch both images as they sighed, wistful smiles on their faces, their eyes closed. Deryne watched them, feeling odd. The Ysandir seemed childlike now, without their airs and scorn. Without the bitterness hardening their features, they were beautiful, in an entirely different way. She felt left out; as though she _knew _the absoluteness of their beauty, but was unable to grasp it… to appreciate it.

"Is that what the Old Ones looked like?" she breathed.

_"If we chose," _Ylanda whispered, the serenity of her voice stilling Deryne. The girl felt as though she could stand there for eternity, just to listen. _"Our first form… but we shed them easily. It is too hard, to hold _this _for long. It is too much… too much to look upon, to linger within…." _She sighed. _"Oh, Deryne…the discoveries awaiting you. The fear and the pain… it is too strong for me to acknowledge in this body, dear one. But the wonder-!" _

"Can you tell the future?" the girl asked, leaning in more. Ylanda laughed, and the sound floated through Deryne; she opened her senses to all the _gudruna _around them. Soft feelings… a bliss that seemed to be eternal and fleeting…. Deryne savored the wave of emotion and gentleness, sensing it would not last for very long.

_"Not so much as that… just senses… feelings…." _Then the woman opened her eyes; they were huge and black… wild… starved. Deryne could not help it; she leapt back, hand snapping back as though she had touched a hot flame. Her mind closed down on the _gudruna _like a trap, blocking their access once more. _"I wish…. But never now," _Ylanda muttered, sounding more like she had before. _"Gods- tricking everyone as they pass by- their affection a show as real as the one performed endlessly by roaming Players." _Disgust colored her voice. Ylon opened his eyes without a word.

_"The shadows come through Chaos and into this world through vents left in the Old Places," _he said, not an ounce of emotion anywhere. _"Here, the gods cannot come and seal off the vents and tunnels, so the shadows can roam freely in the Old Ones' domains, but they cannot leave them. Not yet, anyway," _he muttered. _"If they leave the safe zone, the gods kill them on the spot. They recognize Uusoae's darkness, and blame the Old Ones for protecting it. But there is no alternative, not when the gods would destroy us, too." _

"What other Old Ones are left?" Alan asked, a note of realization in his voice. "Where are they? These other places? Those caverns, where those shadows were found a few years back?"

_"The Black Caverns?" _Ylanda asked, voice dry. _"Surely you mortals weren't foolish enough to play your games in there?" _

"Why should we stay away?" Tkaa asked.

_"Because there are _many _vents there!" _Ylon hissed. _"All locked by a charm left by the last Old Ones before the Caverns were abandoned and blocked off!" _

"Well, obviously that charm isn't working now," Alan muttered, and a chill raced through Deryne.

"You're talking about the place I went when-" _Inar's knight master died. _"Oh gods," she whispered. "That isn't very far from Corus…."

_"Now you see?" _Ylon rolled his eyes. _"All of you, mortal and immortal alike! I'll never know why the rest of our kind _doted _on you fools. Neither could the gods understand it, either, for that matter." _He let out a hiss.

_"But if they freed the vents… that means there is a Shadowmaster," _Ylanda said, soft voice dreamy. A wide smirk played across her lips. _"Shadows serve the one who frees them. Uusoae already has her pawn in this world, then. Someone working for her- helping her armies gather. They must have loosened, or broken the charm inside the Caverns. And now they begin to come together, aimless, purposeless- but still very dangerous." _A small frown worked its way onto her mouth as she thought. _"The Shadows _have _acted oddly," _she said finally. _"Violent one moment… peaceful the next. Sometimes, they let the arrogant fools through, which no decent Shadow guard would _ever _do…but sometimes, they are so vicious, they must be receiving direct orders from the cruelest of men…. It's as though their loyalty is split between two people… or their master is _very _troubled individual." _Her smile grew again, savoring the thought. _"He might not even know he controls them." _Her soft laugh sent shivers through Deryne. _"How amusing would _that _be?" _she drawled, looking over at her mate lazily.

_"There has been no bind on the vent _here _since we were killed," _Ylon said, ignoring the train of thought Ylanda had taken. _"But the Black City is not a citadel- not the sort Uusoae wants, anyway. Her creatures are few here…just enough to kill any human sent by the gods to seal up the vent." _Deryne frowned.

"Where is this vent?" she asked. "Could _we_-"

_"Seal it off?" _Ylanda finished with a smirk. _"Little one, I fear you are one step ahead of yourself already." _She burst into a fit of cold laughter, while Ylon's teeth flashed in a harsh smile. Deryne looked at Tkaa, then Alan, who shrugged. _"Try the door to your left," _the woman drawled. _"For all I know, it might be open. I doubt it." _Deryne's eyes flickered towards the double doors, adorned with the glowing seal. Then it clicked.

"_Oh,_" she said. "We- I closed it off already?"

_"That would be what your god thought important enough to risk coming here- even just in your mind- To protect you… and score a run against the Queen of Chaos," _Ylon said.

'"My god…." The words were familiar; the Chamber had used them, awhile ago. "Frejonak? _He_-"

"God of mountain winds," Tkaa said in his low voice. "You _do _have a kestrel, Deryne." The girl looked around; Duskwing was still by the door, glaring at them. She had forgotten about him until that moment.

_I'm touched, _the Chamber said sardonically. _What a way to care for your little bird, Queenscove. _Deryne gasped, not caring that those around her- mortal and immortal, alive and… otherwise- were watching her.

_Good time to start talking with me again, _she thought furiously, unable to stop a wave of pleasure from washing over her frayed emotions. She _had _missed him. _Have you heard all of this? _She jerked her head towards the Ysandir's reflections. _Can _they _hear you? _

_No, _the Chamber answered coolly. _And it had better _stay _that way! _

"I hear you," Deryne muttered.

_"What?" _Ylanda asked silkily. Deryne noticed the intensity with which Ylon stared at Duskwing.

"If we closed off the seal, then how come they're still coming?" she asked. Ylon rolled his eyes; Deryne was only grateful that her question distracted them from her kestrel.

_"You blocked off the pathway and the one coming from the vent," _he replied. _"Not those already here. You were herded here in order to become the new one's first snack, I would guess." _Deryne frowned.

"So the storm was theirs, not yours or any gods-"

_"Them," _Ylanda confirmed. _"And now they come." _Deryne could not help turning to look around.

"Where?" she whispered.

_Where else? _From his place by the entrance, Duskwing stared at her as the Chamber spoke into her mind, once more.

_"The door, of course," _Ylon told her. _"Foolish girl." _

_On that account alone do we agree, _the Chamber muttered to himself. Deryne resisted the urge to retort; she wondered why the Chamber did not want the Ysandir knowing he was there….

_You need to tell me why later, _she told him, glaring at the kestrel. _Otherwise, Ylon's going to find out why that mess of feathers looks a little odd to him. _

_Don't you dare, _the Chamber snapped back.

_"Their one weakness is the Chaos swirl on their heads," _Ylon said flatly. _"Stab the color…or, in your case, mage, burn it. Just a touch will do. With your little gusts, you can rip them to pieces." _Deryne nodded, as much as his glee sent her wanting to run and hide. Ylanda's smile was no more comforting than his.

_"Wreck them, ruin them," _she snarled. _"Send Uusoae screaming and swearing against you. Show her what fear is. Only you and your kind can." _Deryne's attempts to settle her concentration froze. She turned away from the door to look back at the Ysandir's faces.

"My ki-" Duskwing screeched and took flight; when the doors slammed open, they only just missed the bird. Deryne whipped around, in time to see the wave of darkness rolling towards them, broken up only by small, circular flashes of color. There was a cracking sound behind her, followed by a deafening crash.

As the first statues of grotesque, bat-like monsters began to fall and shatter on the floor, Deryne let her eyes slide back to the altar for one last glimpse.

It was broken, the smooth rock jagged and rough where it had shattered….

The Ysandir were gone.

* * *

**AN: I didn't resurrect them... technically, they are still dead. If they were alive alive, I agree that would be lame/painful, considering my other resurrection... And they fit, far too snugly, to cut out. And I only kept the 2 main ones... Besides, they know certain stuff nobody else would... so they help the plot/explanations along a little.**

BY THE WAY- I have the next chapter, ready to go... I just want to wait a little longer to see how much reviews I can get for this chapter. This is not blackmail... I'm just saying that I don't want to post again if people haven't been given a chance to review.


	32. Chapter 31: A Flash of Gold

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**AN: **_Hello, all- this might have been the fastest I've written a chapter yet... Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it. Thanks to everyone who reviewed (they were amazingly motivational reviews... apparently, since I got this done so quickly- so just keep on doing what you're doing! ;D) - **SarahE7191**, **Shang Leopard**, **twilightm00n**, **Cymru na Alethaira**, **Lemondrop xxx**, **dark-angels-who-eat-cookies**, BACswimma. And I am sorry about a certain trip, which delayed posting until now, though I got that chappie done in a day- it was amazing...!  
_

* * *

_Chapter 31_

_A Flash of Gold_

_My kind…there are others? _Deryne thought numbly, staring down at the broken altar where both Ysandir had been a moment before.

"Deryne!" her knight master bellowed, and the girl remembered where she was; turning, she saw a shadow swooping down over her with fangs that had not been there a moment before. She didn't think; with one, hard jab, she stabbed the beast with her blade, missing the vulnerable patch of color on its head by a few inches. With a howl, the creature pulled back before continuing its dive.

"Forget it," she muttered, jamming a stream of magic into her attacker. This time, she hit the mark; the creature screeched and ripped into thousands of tiny shadows that disappeared into thin air as the next shadow descended on Deryne.

Hands glowing, she closed her eyes, taking a split second to feel for as many of the creatures as she could; they poured in on her in a flood. In the small moment she dared to spend, she sensed her two companions, battling only feet away, but obscured by their opponents.

Then the squire raised her hands above her head; tiny sparks of gray-blue Gift shot from them like hundreds of tiny arrows, each finding its mark in a shadow creature.

Every one of the beasts around her disappeared, giving her just enough time to find Alan and Tkaa. When they saw her, she stepped behind the altar, eyeing the next wave of shadows pouring towards them.

"Come on!" she cried, thrusting another bolt of tiny but lethal sparks into the ranks of monsters.

"Much more efficient than either of us," Alan muttered as he leapt over the stone barrier. "Not much cover."

"Enough to protect Deryne," Tkaa said coolly as he joined them, still dropping shadows with a look from his sharp eyes. "Feel them out and fast." Alan pushed his squire down before hefting his sword again. "Trust us, and end this."

Deryne ignored the doubt and panic in her mind; she had the power to protect them all, but only if she allowed her knight master and basilisk friend keep her safe until then.

_Like archery, _she thought, collecting her Gift in her mind. _Except I'll never miss. _The thought made her smile wryly. _And a force field… after that. Except I can't use gusts- _She grimaced. No one else seemed able to breathe in her _real _shield: a miniature tornado that threw everything that tried to touch her aside. _Which means it will be weak- only able to slow them down. _Her magic pulsed through her as she slowly let down the barriers she set up against _gudruna _and let them float through her. She could feel every lunge and jab Alan made, every way Tkaa turned his head, the sudden change from black nothingness to stone in the air- And every squirming shadow that fought to enter the temple, eager for a fight… for food. She shivered, collecting everything she could, tracking the movements of each attacker inside the temple, inch by inch, as her web of _gudruna _spread outwards to the entrance.

Teeth gritted, she allowed each weak spot to pour through her mind at once; as long as she did not focus on one, or lose concentration-

_Now. _She leapt up, hand outstretched as barbs soared through the air from her fingertips, weaving in and out of the crowd of beasts as each slammed into its target. Deryne felt each one hit and bury itself within the shadow before bursting; it felt like raindrops, on her skin. She sucked in a harsh breath as the _gudruna _brought back the pain, the shrieks- it was the payback, for ensuring every one died, that she directed each spark to its target. Explosion after explosion, scream after scream- A roar of pain escaped her as she put her hands over her ears; it did nothing to soothe the torrent in her mind. She felt her knight master reach out; to avoid the touch, she stumbled backwards, bent over.

Then it was done; not a shadow remained. Deryne sent her magic out further, cautiously. The _gudruna _brought back no more shadow creatures. Head pounding, the squire looked up through tearing eyes and smiled weakly.

"I'm fine," she told Alan, who raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sure," he retorted.

"Really." Deryne kept her hands on her head. "It hurts, but I'm fine. I just had to- to hold all that magic- the _gudruna_­- in my head the whole time. I had to- to know the exact position of every one of them at once. My mind's not used to it, is all." A sharp pain went through her; she hissed softly in pain. "Wouldn't want to do that again," she muttered, massaging her temples.

"The king will be making use of you," Tkaa murmured. "Able to fend off immortals like that?"

"Ri would be better," Deryne gasped, trying to calm herself. "Send him in alone, and he'll torch everything, 'cluding himself, and walk out alive. Faster, I'll bet. Even my way, I'd have to do a little area at a time. I can't hold too much in my head at once."

"We'll keep it in mind," Alan said dryly. Deryne winced; his voice was a little too loud for her. Tkaa noticed, and put a finger to his mouth. The knight looked over at her. "Sorry," he said, quieter. She managed a smile. "With that sort of control, though, you'll last longer than your blasting friend. Your way takes more concentration and discipline, but also less power." Deryne rolled her eyes.

"I don't think Ri worries about saving his strength," she muttered. "The more he uses, the better."

* * *

"The diagram?" Malvyn asked, glancing over at Rikash. The blond mage noted smugly how rapt the gathered apprentices' attention was; they hardly seemed to breathe. Kasey was there, along with the rest of their room, but several others from the dorm were there, too. So many had asked Rikash that day if they could come, but he and Malvyn only picked a handful of the more promising ones.

Not that any of them were as good as Rikash would have wanted, but Malvyn insisted they had potential.

"Potential sheep-herders," Rikash muttered to himself as he knelt over Malvyn's trunk and opened it. "Sheep, even." The diagram of the gate- the newest gate the two of them had created- was on top on numerous books Malvyn kept stacked inside his locked trunk. Rikash handed over the piece of parchment, which Malvyn took before he stepped away again, flourishing it with the air of a Player. Rolling his eyes, Rikash glanced back down at the books lying on top of everything. Most of them he had borrowed from Malvyn….

With a glance at his friend, who was explaining the particulars of their experiments with the over-eager listeners, Rikash rummaged through the volumes quietly. Malvyn hadn't lent them _all _to him….

The youth felt a softer, leather binding near the bottom of the pile and eased it out quietly. It was a small, red book. Old and well-used, from the stains and worn cover…. It reminded Rikash of the journals they took notes in, for classes and on their own…. As he turned it over, a flash of gold, an engraving, caught his eye-

"And _that_," Malvyn said pleasantly, yanking the book out of Rikash's hands. "-is most _certainly _for another time. Why are you _reading_, when we need you for the spell, Salmalin?" He turned to the younger students and shrugged. "Too bookish for this sort of thing. Stage fright, I suppose?" Grabbing onto the trunk, Rikash pulled himself up and punched Malvyn in the arm as the others smiled tentatively.

"I was waiting for you to stop wagging your jaw and start working," he retorted as his friend bent down to put the book back in his trunk, underneath all his school ones. "Ready, you old bag of wind?" Malvyn laughed, slamming the lid of his trunk down before magically locking it with a twist of his fingers.

"Always a step ahead."

* * *

He had always been too clever for them. He watched with satisfaction as those around him scurried about, paying him no mind. It was refreshing, to be an unknown. To be an innocent… not a suspect. Last time, his every movement had been watched, people so frightened that corridors would clear before his presence. He had a far more powerful a presence than his dear little cousin had had. Respect was one thing, but fear was in its own separate league. He smiled smugly; everyone underestimated him, which made this game of cat and mouse much simpler.

The mage thought _he _was in control, the young novice. Proud of himself, too. It had been so easy to delude him. What he did not know what that Roger of Conté was too strong for him. What did the boy think, that the Duke _owed _him? Perhaps he did… but it meant very little. This body was not his own; the sorcerer had to _share _it with another….

And Roger of Conté was not one for sharing. Not for long.

* * *

"So… back to Corus with us?" Deryne asked as Alan stepped away from where Tkaa and the crown mage spoke. He took the reins from his mounted squire and pulled himself up onto his horse.

"We'll be giving the king a full report in person," he muttered. The squire's eyes grew huge. Noticing, her knight master smiled and shook his head.

"It's not bad at all," he reassured her. "Not like the old king; _he _could be frightening. His Majesty will need to speak to you; you're the one able to destroy the shadows with less than a blink." Deryne raised an eyebrow.

"Now you exaggerate. My head still hurts," she pointed out. Alan grinned.

"Fine; able to defeat a legion of monsters with only a very small weak spot in several seconds, with the minor headache as a side effect. Better?" Deryne smiled and shook her head, looking down at her new mount. They did not find Zephyr after they finally left the Black City; Deryne guessed the poor beast was at the southern coast by now.

"Master Salmalin could do it," she pointed out half-heartedly, pleased with the praise but still unwilling to bask in it. She did not want to be _too _much of a braggart.

"My uncle Numair is an experienced black robe," Alan retorted. "_Years _of practice. _You_, on the other hand, might make me an active duty knight with direct communication with the king for the next four years."

"Sorry?" Deryne tried, hiding a smile. Alan shrugged.

"My mother handled it all those years. Barely," he added, chuckling. "Or should I say my uncle Jon barely handled it?" Deryne laughed, then sighed.

"Would we really be that busy?" Alan frowned.

"If the Ysandir are right about the caverns…," he trailed off, then cleared his throat. "I'm not sure how we ought to present that bit of intelligence to the king." Deryne made a face.

"Tell him that man-eating, ancient beings that his father killed in a cursed city decided to help us out?" she suggested, smirking slightly. Alan snorted, then shook his head.

"I don't know," he said ruefully. "Maybe it'll work. If I make it sound unlikely enough, maybe he'll believe us."

"I don't think you'll need any embellishing," Deryne muttered. "Is Tkaa coming with us?"

"I think he wants to explore a little more," her knight master answered, voice dry. "But I think I've had my fill of poking around for awhile." Deryne smiled.

"Especially since the next few years might be full of it?" The knight nodded once.

"Exactly," he replied, urging his horse to a trot. "I don't see any reason to go looking for _more_ trouble."

* * *

"I want to go this way," Rikash hissed at Malvyn, who was eyeing a drunk and nasty noble complaining to a flower seller. They were once again prowling the city after hours; true to his word, Malvyn had started going again for the past week.

"_Wait,_" Malvyn groaned. "C'mon, Salmalin-" Rikash rolled his eyes.

"So you can pick a pocket? That one's got a bodyguard and everything- probably a spelled purse, too."

"Makes it a challenge, doesn't it?" Malvyn retorted, eyes glittering. "I'll catch up, then- what's so important?" Rikash shrugged; he honestly had no answer. All he knew was he _wanted _to go down Dolder Street, deeper into the market. There was a _tug_ in his mind, wrestling with all his other thoughts and wishes.

"I just _want _to," he muttered. Malvyn narrowed his eyes.

"Like the time two days ago, when you _had _to leave me talking with the baker? He's one of the my group, you know-"

"I don't care," Rikash said crossly; the other young man raised his eyebrows.

"_Really?_" he asked, intrigued. Then a small smile wormed its way across his face. "Lead the way, then, Salmalin." The way his blue eyes glinted made Rikash look around them.

"We can wait," he said, uncomfortable. Malvyn raised an eyebrow.

"But last time, we did wait, and you changed your mind," he said thoughtfully. "It was about this time, too." There was a long pause. Then Malvyn jerked his head towards the street ahead of them: Dolder. "Go on." Rolling his eyes, Rikash led the way, turning right and wandering down Dolder, eyes roving.

It was not late enough that no one but the troublemakers were there; plenty of mothers with children and young women hurried about on errands. It was a little after dusk, which was the busiest time for the markets….

There were the most shows, too. Players and puppeteers all performed for growing crowds, earning rotten fruit and coins as they went along.

"See the boy? Greenest thumb you'll ever see, my friends!" Rikash turned his head to see a tall, lean man with a gaunt face calling out to his audience. A young man a little older than him with strawberry blond hair stood next to him, his fresh, freckled face watching those peering back at him with an innocent curiosity that made Rikash pause, frowning. "Watch this, here, and toss in a few coppers, for a poor boy!" The man's large eyes peered around as he greedily rubbed his hands together, then held up something tiny in his hand. "A little seed!" he called out; Rikash stepped forward to watch the man stuff it into a small pot filled with dirt. "No magic here! Not yet, anyways!" Rikash looked over at Malvyn, who seemed as curious as he was. He stared intently at the performers, eyes narrowed. "Now- watch him work, eh?" Rikash turned his head back to see the young man take the pot and put his hand in the earth, eyes closed, face smooth. Malvyn grabbed his friend and dragged him into the gathered crowd as the freckled youth shifted his arm slightly; Rikash could tell that his hand, buried in the dirt, was glowing green; the shimmering Gift was too bright to be concealed by the earth around it.

Then- before Rikash's eyes- a huge, green snake burst from the pot, the youth's hand still on top of it. It took him a moment to realize it was _not _a snake, but an enormous vine that had not stopped growing yet. It rose, higher and higher until the mage could not reach its top, up into the air, to the gasps of the crowd. Some applauded; others handed coins to the gaunt man standing next to the boy.

"I ain't seen nothing like it," one man said to his friend, who shook his head.

"Clever trick," Rikash muttered shakily; what was wrong with him? It was just a street performer, who had probably invested enough magic in the seed for weeks- just for tonight, and the load it would bring in-

"No," Malvyn said abruptly as admirers began to disperse. The money collector bowed and thanked everyone who passed him. "Let's go." Rikash turned to leave, but Malvyn grabbed him by the wrist and tugged him forward, towards the young mage, who still had one hand planted in the soil. The old man stepped in their way.

"A coin, good sirs?" he asked, teeth rotted. Rikash grimaced. "Hal's me name- we two are-"

"Father and son? Uncle and nephew?" Malvyn asked coldly, staring down at the man. "I doubt it." Hal blinked, then smiled again.

"Mates, sir. We make our keep-' Malvyn snorted.

"Somehow, I doubt you do anything," he sneered. "Except lick your benefactors' boots, perhaps." The young man- who had not ended the spell until then- opened his eyes and put the plant down gingerly. When he pulled his hand out, Rikash saw his magic was not green. It was brown, with an occasional shimmer of green that came and went. "Really? Why bother?" The mage looked at Malvyn, puzzled.

"Hal here helped me out, sir," he answered. "I came in from the country, and-"

"Never would've guessed," Rikash heard his friend mutter.

"-someone took my purse, you see-"

"Did you know you could be at the University right now?" Malvyn demanded sharply. "_The _University? The Mage University of Corus, second in Tortall only to the City of the Gods?" The freckled youth frowned.

"Not me, sir." Malvyn smiled then.

"Yes," he said softly, his voice tinged with incredulity. "I've been there for awhile, and the City of the Gods before that. _Trust _me when I say that it's your lucky night."

"Wait a minute," Hal said with a scowl. Malvyn whipped around to glare into the man's face, eyes blazing.

"How much coin do you give him, anyway?" the mage hissed. "Enough to make him look well-fed? Or has he just not been with you long enough to show it?" Hal's eyes widened.

"Well, Hal needs a bit more than I do, anyway," the country boy said seriously. Malvyn looked up at the sky.

"Mithros and Shakith!" he said, exasperated. "You know how much you'd make employed with the Crown?" he asked the street mage. "Much more than this lump tricks out of you, for certain!"

"The Crown?" he echoed uncertainly.

"Yes!" Malvyn exclaimed. "_That _is how good you are!" A small laugh escaped the youth.

"Never," he said, chuckling to himself as he shook his head. "Not me-" He looked up at Rikash, who felt a jolt go through him as the brown eyes locked with his. Despite their mundane color, there was something eerie about them. Then the boy shifted, and a wave of green shimmered over the brown and was gone again. Just like his Gift. Rikash frowned. "You from the University, then?" He smiled crookedly. "Thanks for the offer, but-"

"I think he's right," Rikash said quietly, eyes steady. "My friend. I think you-" The unnamed youth frowned then, too.

"Do I know you?" he asked. "I mean, I'm not playing 'round. Have we met?" His bewilderment made Rikash smile.

"Perhaps you've seen us here," Malvyn said, watching the street mage closely. "Malvyn. This is Rikash Salmalin. You may have heard of his father." The youth scratched his head.

"Salmalin?" he queried, pursing his lips in thought. Hal, on the other hand, paled.

"Oh, I mean no trouble, sirs," he stuttered, then- before any of the three young men could say anything- he shot off through the crowd and disappeared. Rikash raised an eyebrow.

"Look what you done now," the strawberry-haired youth said. "I gotta go find him, and that won't be easy-"

"I can bring him back," Rikash muttered, but Malvyn shook his head with a small smile.

"He's a scumbag, to desert you like that, and take all your coins, too," Malvyn said firmly, throwing an arm around the country boy. "I got a better idea; you come with us, alright?"

"To the University?"

"Where else?" the mage retorted breezily, glancing over at Rikash. "What's your name, then, mate?"

"Han." Malvyn nodded once, then inclined his head to murmur a question in Rikash's ear.

"You still feeling that tug?" Rikash scowled and shook his head.

"I forgot all about it," he admitted. "But now we've got Han to deal with, right?" Malvyn smiled.

"It'll be easy to hide him up in the dorm. Nobody'll say a word," he reassured Rikash, who nodded, glad that his friend was a good mage _and _clever. Malvyn was one of a kind; who else could have gotten Han to come like that?

"Good. I wouldn't want him kicked out into the streets again-"

"Don't worry," Malvyn instructed, his face smug as his eyes turned back to their newest friend. "We can _all _go searching Dolder Street for this... _thing _you sense_... _some other time."

* * *

They were only a day's ride away from Corus; they had been riding for a week, give or take a day. Alan was sleeping next to the dying fire; his squire was closer to her new mare, Tor, and the bird resting on her saddle. Deryne still had a slight headache, and she was too hot to sleep right by the coals.

"Tomorrow I'll have to _report _to the king himself. Why couldn't you have just magicked the shadows away, anyway?" Deryne grumbled to her kestrel. "Why did _I _have to do it all?" Duskwing gave her a cold, affronted stare.

_Do I _look _like a mage to you? _the Chamber demanded. Deryne made a face.

"But you're the Chamber of Ordeal!" she hissed. "Don't tell me you couldn't wave your hand- flap your wing- and do something magicky!"

_Something magicky? _it echoed. Deryne glowered.

"I'm tired," she said shortly.

_Then stop this incessant complaining and go to sleep. _She rolled her eyes and turned over in her blankets.

"I mean, having a false prophecy over my head's enough to worry about," she said after a moment. The Chamber sighed loudly, but said nothing. "Yama's festival, sporadic threats, the Swoop's surprise collection, and now this! Oh! I've left out some of the most important ones! Kidnapping by a man who acts all mysterious-"

_Kidnappers do tend to be that way. Otherwise they'd get caught. _Deryne glared into the sand; surely a legendary, ancient _room _would know what she meant by that.

"But he talked like- I dunno- maybe I'd see him again? And dreams about Blayce the Nothing Man- who has _nothing _to do with _anything_-"

_Are you so certain? _

"I've been waiting a few damned long years," she muttered. "If it meant something, I'd have found it already. There's just too much to think about, to keep track of-"

_Maybe you should make a list, _the Chamber retorted wickedly. Deryne rolled her eyes.

"You know? Maybe I will," she replied before closing her eyes, determined not to speak ever again to her possessed kestrel.

* * *

"I told you, he has nothing to do with anything," Deryne muttered, glaring at Blayce the Gallan as the mage's fingers scurried through papers and books. She was dreaming again... dreaming pointlessly. "He's a ferret- a dead ferret," she added. "Not-" The words died in her throat as he pulled out a familiar book, a greedy look of triumph on his ratty face. It was a small book, filled with notes from a brilliant mage… one who had explored the wrong kind of magic….

Deryne had read those notes; she knew what that book contained…

"_Copy,_" Blayce muttered, clenching the notes of Lord Thom of Trebond. How had he gotten them? They weren't in the Swoop; that was for certain... Looking out the window, Deryne guessed they were in the same, mountainous place they had been in her first dream with the Nothing Man. She felt a pit forming in her stomach as she saw the small book the mage had in his other hand, half-hidden by his robes. Her eyes widened as the words flew from the necromancy notes into Blayce's own book. A small, breathless laugh escaped the small man. "I did it," he whispered in a wheezy voice before he slid Thom's notes back onto a bookcase and made for the door. Deryne followed him at a sprint as he rushed through the empty halls, eyes looking back and forth guiltily until he opened a door. Heart pounding, the girl followed him into his rooms, where he tossed the book down on his desk and left again, passing through her ghostly self as he exited.

Deryne did not bother following; who knew where he was going now? Shaking, she walked over to the desk and stared down at the notes, a chill running through her. Her eyes widened; a small gasp escaped her lips before she tried to pick them up. Now that she saw the book itself, shock and desperation filled her, urging her to _get rid of it_, in whatever way she could. _Now _she knew why she needed to know about Blayce….

_Please…. Please, gods- Chamber…._

But- try as she might- her hand went through it, every time.

"It can't be," she whispered, gazing down at the wretched copy in horror.

There was no way for her to move the little red book; she stared at it hopelessly as its golden engraving winked back at her, its four very familiar symbols joined as one.

* * *

AN: Reviews are always appreciated. ;D

ALSO- weird format on the computer I'm using- my apologies for anything unusual/random in the text, especially my note up top. Thanks again... ;D 


	33. Chapter 32: Returning

AN: Sorry for the delay, and I'm apologizing in advance for the next delay, too- school is starting up and with almost none of my summer work done... the procrastinator needs to kick it into gear, now... but once I finish my work, I will be back. ;D Happy reading!

Thanks to my reviewers- **Cymru na Alethaira**, **darestodream**, **Shang Leopard**, **Lemondrop xxx**, **dark-angels-who-eat-cookies**, **twilightm00n**, **BACswimma**, **Evilstrawberry**, **SarahE7191**, **ILoveCockatiels**, and my beta, **KyrieofAccender**.

* * *

_Chapter 32_

_Returning_

_October 28, 480 H.E. _

Noting that the chamberlain was busy delivering his pompous speech to Sir Alan, Deryne turned to Inar, who silently waited behind the man. She smiled and waved as their gazes locked, then made to dismount.

"Urgent- immediate presence requested, Sir Alan," the chamberlain declared, sweeping a hand towards two nearby stable hands. "They will take charge of your mount. And that of your squire," he added, turning to Deryne as she jumped to the ground. "Squire Inar of Ferensfell and I will escort you to His Majesty now-" Swallowing hard, Deryne looked over at her knight master, who smiled reassuringly.

"King Roald's sister, Empress of Carthak, used to watch me when we were little," he said wryly. "You have nothing to fear, squire." Deryne straightened.

"Fear? Me? _I_'ve fought hundreds of shadow immortals," she retorted, grinning despite a frown on the chamberlain's face that told her he disliked her informal impudence. "What about you?" she tacked on cheerily, just to see if the waiting servant's face would change color in his intense disapproval. Raising his eyes, Alan shot a meaningful look at her, then at the chamberlain, who _was _turning red.

_Fine, _Deryne thought, turning to their escort with a neat bow.

"After you, sir," she said politely, amused by the mix of bemusement and suspicion on Inar's companion's face. Her former sponsor was looking decidedly in the other direction, but Deryne thought she saw him fight off a grin. The chamberlain stalked forwards without another word, his brusque walk telling Deryne that he was trying to preserve his calm appearance. She jerked her head at Inar as she passed him. "Onwards, squire," she muttered, mind churning as she ran through recent events in her mind. "When are you freed from the stuffy tomato up there? We need to talk."

"We do," Inar agreed, face dark when she looked back at him. She frowned, questions on the tip of her tongue. He continued before she could voice them. "We need to talk about Rikash." His eyes narrowed as they followed the chamberlain, Alan strolling a few steps behind. "More importantly, _you _have to talk _to _him." Deryne's brow furrowed.

"What-" The youth shook his head.

_What has that bird brained toad done now? _she thought, stealing another glance at Inar. To bring _Inar _to her in appeal? She shook her head. _Blown someone's head off during a spell? Or maybe he's just picked up necromancy…. _She snorted, then sighed. Rikash's power was _immense_; it wasn't his fault that he had trouble at times….

With that sort of magic, _anyone_ would be bound for trouble once in awhile.

* * *

The scribe scribbled furiously as King Roald spoke. Arranged around Deryne and her knight master were many people, many of whom she recognized. Cadel's "uncle Raoul" was there, along with Numair, the Lord Provost, the head of the Riders, and several high-ranking nobles. The place next to the king- his Champion's place, where his brother Jasson would sit- was occupied by Prince Liam.

"Huge _shadows, _in the shape of sea rays- their weak spot a splotch of color on their foreheads-" Both Deryne and Alan nodded. As long as she did not think about all the important men and women watching her, she could speak to the king without worrying or freezing up. The king turned to Numair. "Can others defend against these monsters like Deryne has?" The black robe mage leaned back in his chair, scholarly face on. Deryne cringed inwardly; she could almost _see _the gears working in her teacher's head as he prepared for full lecture mode.

"Any adept mage _could _make those tiny arrows and hurl them into a crowd," the man said firmly. "But what Deryne does is _better _than that. With her power, she can _feel _every one of those immortals' motions and _then _send each of her little spells to kill them." He paused for a moment, a faint smile on his face. "And she will _never _miss." Deryne's eyes flickered around the room, even as she tried to avoid gazes.

The temptation was too great, especially when the _gudruna _in the room were beginning to crowd her. Her barrier lowered, and the thoughts of those around her flew through her mind even as their owners' motions glowed her in vision. Excitement, awe, worry- Raoul of Goldenlake and Malorie's Peak was already planning out tactics; he would have a great deal of questions for her…. The corners of her lips twitched. The man was like a boy at Midwinter….

_If she could do that with _those _immortals, perhaps others- _The Lord Provost mused over her strength, struggling to gauge her lengths and wondering over what she would do after she got her knighthood. A bubble of pride rose in her; here was someone who knew little about her, and yet he acknowledged her just like any boy. _That_, more than anything, gave her hope; girls _would _be equal, someday. She fought to keep a grin off her face; she won when Numair's thoughts rushed through her. He was resigned, and there was a little worry in his eyes as she watched her surreptitiously.

_And she could do that to _anything_…. _Images of people, animals, other immortals- he shuddered._ But if anyone has the control, it's Deryne. She would _never _abuse her _any _of her power for anything- _The girl could feel the conviction in Numair's mind and winced with guilt. But before she could close her mind once more against the barrage, she sensed a twinge of something new and froze.

Distrust spilled through her head, so powerful Deryne's stomach twisted. It slithered through her and grew like an uncoiling snake, prepared to strike. Her hold on the chair she had been given awhile ago, when it was made clear that they would be there a long time, tightened until the wood seemed to brand her skin. Slowly, her crystal eyes rose to meet those of her silent accuser. His thoughts poured into her head relentlessly, a tidal wave that crushed everything beneath it.

Images of her reading their minds… plotting… flying up through an impenetrable guard and tearing them apart with a glance….

_It's possible, _Roald of Conte thought grimly as he stared back at her. _Always possible. _Coldness spread through the girl as she fought not to respond, plead or shout-

_What about Numair? _she thought numbly. _Why trust a black robe and not _me_? _Their gazes had not broken yet; suspicion grew in the king's mind.

Had her teacher told His Majesty _everything _she could do? As she stared back into those condemning orbs, she knew Numair had.

"Can she use these… _arrows _against others beside shadows?" Roald asked, distaste creeping into his question. As she battled tears, she fought a sob; it would be better to be wondering about the edginess in his voice, the troubled look in his eyes, than to know…. Unable to speak, Deryne turned her head to Numair, who shook his head quickly.

"They are made up of Chaos and shadow," Numair said swiftly. "I suspect that her magic is able to tear through them because of that." He shot a look at Deryne, who slammed her mind shut to _gudruna _and suppressed a cry, this time of relief. She wouldn't want that sort of power, the kind Roald was considering. The relief seemed clear in his face, too; when she dared to peek up at him, he was smiling at her.

"Well, then- we know where you'll be assigned until these beasts are destroyed," the king told her, eyes twinkling. Both she and Alan laughed, but something Numair had said was nagging her.

She hadn't sent her Gift after those shadows just to let it _touch _them… they hadn't died because her magic was some sort of poison for Chaos and shadow….

Deryne slammed the nagging thought down, refusing to let it go further as those around her began to talk once more. There would be questions to answer and work to plan…. Stupid, stray thoughts should not distract her from her duty.

* * *

The moment the king dismissed them, Numair rose and swept towards Deryne and her knight master, putting a hand on the squire's shoulder as he passed to steer her away with him.

"Alan, I am borrowing her," he told the knight shortly, his voice allowing no argument. He did not release her until they were out in the corridor, Deryne too confused by his abruptness to do anything but follow him to his study. Once they were there, the mage closed the door and waved his hand around the room. Black magic swept over every surface, protecting them from eavesdropping of any sort. Silently, Deryne watched his stern face as worry filled her, nerves trembling as the seal was complete. Then her teacher turned to her, face unreadable.

"Deryne, I need your word that you will _never _use those wind arrows on anything but Shadows," Numair said darkly. She stared at him, mouth agape. "I lied to my king for you, Deryne; don't prove my words wrong." Deryne struggled to find words.

"W-what?" she managed weakly, even as her mind finally came to the conclusion she would not allow it to make. Numair had never believed what he had told the king. And now she puzzled out the thought she refused to acknowledge before. She had _forced _the shadows apart, ripped them to pieces from the inside… a technique which could be applied to _anything. _Any_one_. Her insides lurched as Numair shot her a look.

"You're clever enough to have made this conclusion from the moment I spoke on your behalf," he said shortly. "There is no need for Roald to fear you, but he will. Anyone who guards this kingdom _must _suspect its mages, particularly the newest. And even when _you _mean well, sometimes circumstances… turn out bad. Or someone managed to take control of you." He sighed heavily, looking older than usual. "But I know the suspicion, Deryne. I know the looks and fears, hate and precautions… and you don't need them." Chills ran through Deryne as she considered the images in the king's head, gone because of a few words from her teacher. Because he _trusted _her. Trusted her enough to make her look weaker… to let the world underestimate her, so she wouldn't have to life with them watching her every movement.

Because she _could _know _their _every movement, every intent- Her head spun as understanding struck her from every angle, realizations unfolding in her mind.

"How long have you been concealing my powers?" she asked softly. "From people- servants, nobles- anyone who didn't need to know-" She fell silent. Her teacher smiled wanly.

"You would be shocked how few know the extent of your Gift," he said gently. "Concealed details, leading on… memory erasings, sometimes." Deryne gasped quietly. "Deryne," he added hesitantly. "I don't think you _have _the Gift." Silence bore on for a long moment; without succumbing to a desperate need to know, the girl stared back into the mage's black eyes, striving to divine an explanation with no extra powers.

"Then what _do _I have?" she asked weakly. "It's not wild magic- you would've told me and Ri earlier-" Numair's eyes widened, almost unperceivably.

"Rikash?" Deryne smiled, trying to restore levity to her words.

"Come on," she laughed. "How often have you compared the two of us, hmm?" Her teacher's answering smile was more of a grimace than anything else.

"I have no idea what it is," he said quietly. "I've suspected… for the longest time. I've researched, to the ends of the world, Deryne, and come up with nothing. But _now _that you come back from this fight, I am certain; the Gift has _never _done anything like that…." He trailed off, shaking his head. "There are _similar _spells, that maybe the strongest mages of all time could pull off… but not without draining themselves. You have an ability- _abilities-_ that would terrify others if they knew. Mind reading, sensing motion, flying, these arrows… it seems to be more of a second nature." Deryne swallowed heavily.

"So what can Rikash do that's unusual?" she asked. Numair grimaced, eyes looking past her, to some other time.

"_Power_, Deryne. When you get tired, you resort to manipulating breezes in the same way my wife talks to animals. Throwing someone into a wall- or keeping them there- with a gust doesn't have the same sting as it would when combined with your Gift- your _magic_- but it's better than nothing." Deryne nodded, struggling to understand. "But I have _never _exhausted my son's magic…. I've taken him into the forest and let him blast away powerful walls of magic for _hours_… until I cannot exhaust my own Gift anymore, in case of emergencies…." He faded off with an incredulous laugh. "And he always told me he felt as strong as he had that morning." He sighed. "Do you want to know how frightening that is? Every time I had you two working together, I had reserves standing by along with all those containment and separation spells I could use to keep you two apart…." He ran a hand through his hair. "Thank the gods you were always friends," he muttered. "If the two of you ever battled magically…." A shudder rose in Deryne as she briefly recalled Pirate's Swoop… the blazing fury in Rikash…. Her own anger, so sudden…. "I can't say I know what would happen," he finished hollowly. Deryne looked up sharply at him.

"You're lying," she replied flatly.

"I said I can't say," Numair answered simply, turning away to wander over to the window. "Not that I didn't know."

* * *

"What's wrong with Rikash?" Deryne demanded before she even sat down; Inar was waiting for her at a table in the royal library. After her talk with Numair, any Rikash trouble seemed much too big to ignore. Inar raised an eyebrow.

"You don't want to go first?"

"No," she answered flatly. "What's wrong?" The other squire sighed, looking up at the woodworked ceiling.

"What a way to catch up," he muttered. "It's just- he and his _friend _are doing some experiments I don't like the sound of. And he won't tell me about others, which worries me even more." Deryne's stomach plummeted.

"Experiments?" she prompted. Inar looked down at the table and said nothing for a moment. Deryne waited, sensing that he was colleting his thoughts.

"We've… done spells together," he admitted slowly, tracing patterns on the rough wood with his fingers. "I've helped Rikash for years… with a gate spell." Deryne frowned. "Around the time when he feels like he can't control his power…." He grimaced. Deryne could see the battle on his face; he was torn between keeping silent and telling her. "We tapped into all that buildup and sent it… into the desert." Deryne's pulse roared in her ears; she stared at him.

"The… Bahzir desert?" she asked softly, mind churning.

"It didn't upset any balance," Inar said glumly, as though he was trying to convince both of them. "You see- there was a hole, sort of, in the desert. No power left, but it needed a lot. It _needed _strength- kept taking it. So there was a balance-"

"A place that might be called the _Black City_?" Deryne asked incredulously. "You were feeding the _Shadows_?" The youth stared back at her, his face a mix of confusion and horror. Deryne put her hands to her head, burrowing her fingertips into her hair. "Gods," she whispered, then sighed. "It doesn't matter now; I sealed everything off," she added, but Inar was not listening.

"The Shadows?" he asked quietly. "The ones that-" He fell silent, his face helpless. Deryne looked up into his thunderstruck eyes, then nodded wearily.

"That's why we were called back," she said, deciding it was time to reveal her own trouble. Not that they were finished talking about their wayward friend. "There was another nest, like the one you…." She stopped there, then continued. "At the Black City. We found out that there's actually little… vents. Holes-portals- into the realms of Chaos. In those caves- the Black Caverns- and the Black City. They're the two main points that shadows are coming into this world from, we think." When she looked up, Inar's horrified expression had not changed; he stared off into the distance, seeing something she could not. She put her hand on his; the light pressure woke him from the stupor. "I sealed off the Black City," she said, making sure he heard every word before she pulled back. "No harm done."

_That time, _she thought. But the relief in Inar's eyes was enough to make her smile a little.

"But the caves?" he asked, settling into his thoughts with a frown. Deryne grimaced.

"That's apparently their great gathering place. Their fortress, so to speak." Inar flinched, then cleared his throat.

"So what's the plan of attack?" he asked. Deryne sighed, leaning back into her chair as she looked upwards.

"Me and Sir Alan will leave as soon as spring rolls around. The Own, Numair, and a group of mages are going, too. First we need to find out whether or not the Shadows _can _leave. We need to determine a perimeter. If they aren't restricted to the caverns and the surrounding area, we're going to have a big problem, but I think they're kinda like soldiers, grouping around and waiting for orders. They won't wander away or stray far from the group. I hope." Inar nodded.

"And once you're done scouting?" Deryne smiled bitterly.

"Then _I _get to do some damage," she answered wryly. "I'm the best mage they have, when it comes to these things." She explained quickly; Inar already knew of her sensitivity to movement. He shuddered as she ended her explanation of how she tracked each in her mind.

"You had to feel them die," he said softly. "Listen to their minds as you tore them apart." Deryne looked up, surprise on her face even as the memories surged forwards painfully. She had not mentioned that to him. There was a gentle smile on the young man's face. "Just shadows," he murmured. "But it hurt." Deryne shrugged, forcing herself to smile.

"Imagine if it was something more than that," she laughed, fighting off the grimness in her thoughts. "At least the shadows just disappeared. Flesh and blood of other immortals would be a bit messier." Inar frowned.

"Don't ever," he said harshly. Deryne's brow furrowed.

"Sorry?" He gave her another gentle, knowing smile. There was an impossible understanding in his eyes; he could not know what it had felt like… the power….

And yet she could tell he did…. She could almost feel the bond forming between them, comradeship seizing both of them and tying their lives together for ever.

"Almost too painful to slaughter monsters," he whispered, leaning over the tables, towards her. "Mindless creatures, who only knew pain- that were nothing but nightmares that disappeared once the light came…." He grabbed her hand in his fist, eyes dark. "I know," he said lowly. "When I left those caves-" He closed his eyes for a moment and Deryne could barely breathe. "I killed some, in a similar way," he told her. "Two, three- it nearly killed me." Deryne took in his furrowed brow, his tense jaw…. So it _was _possible that he comprehended it all…. He paused, then opened his eyes again. "Don't _ever _do that to anything but a Shadow. And only then when you have to." Deryne looked away; the intensity of his understanding was too much. Here were two people who knew exactly what it felt like… ripping a creature into pieces. Now that she looked back, the ease with which she could slaughter hundreds of the Shadows chilled her.

"I've already promised Numair," she told him in a whisper as she eyed the cold stone floor. "But I promise. I do." His grip on her hand tightened for a moment, then he let go.

* * *

"Do you want to take a bit from the Gate, Han?" Malvyn asked as an apprentice stepped away from the Gate, eyes gleaming as his hand shimmered for a moment before disappearing. With a look, the boy made it reappear and laughed.

"I've never had enough power to practice invisibility spells!" he crowed, delighted as the other boys crowded around him. Rikash rolled his eyes, then looked over at Han, who had stayed in their room without the professors' knowledge. So far. They were just waiting for the right time to introduce him… Rikash had mentioned it might be a good idea for the youth to meet his father over Midwinter, who could then easily convince the university to take Han. Malvyn had agreed, and Han had no objections to anything. He did not mind waiting in the room, not when they could smuggle enough plants up to create their own greenhouse. His power was not exactly plants, he had told the two boys. Han could feel the ground shifting underneath them, and move it himself… which had not been taken kindly in his hometown from the few words he had said about his old life. But he preferred plants to rocks, the country youth said… and so did most other people.

Han shook his head to Malvyn's offer.

"Unnatural," he muttered, twiddling his fingers absently. Rikash noticed with amusement that the nearest plants moved back and forth in time to Han's motion, like charmed snakes. Malvyn shrugged.

"Suit yourself," he replied cheerily, but Rikash thought he saw a spark of disappointment in their leader's eyes. Because that was what Malvyn was…. The boys loved Rikash's and Han's displays of magic, but Malvyn was the one who included them, invited them in…. Rikash rolled his eyes. It annoyed him. Malvyn didn't need a bigger head, more reasons for theatrics.

Why did the little boys even bother? Sometimes, Malvyn would drop them without a word; they'd try, for a few days, to regain his attention, but they faded back behind the medley of bright young boys who Malvyn recruited instead. And yet they'd still follow him around when they could, long after Malvyn had given their place in experiments to another….

It was a farce, a pitiful display. The boys only made fools of themselves. And Rikash despised fools.

* * *

"So what does this symbol mean?" Inar asked as he and Deryne walked around the practice yards after a training session with Deryne's knight master. Alan had not hesitated to invite Inar to work with them when he realized that the squire had no knight master to supervise him. Inar had told Deryne that it had been decided that another knight would take him the following year; he would be a squire for five years, maybe even six. "I mean, Blayce knows it, that kidnapper did…."

"Numair's _still _working on it," Deryne grumbled, wiping the sweat from her face. "And I told you 'bout that piece of glass, right?" Inar nodded once. "Goddess, it's _cold_!" She walked a little quicker to reach the warmth indoors. The other squire laughed.

"So _somehow _you and that kidnapper and Blayce are connected?" he clarified. Deryne glowered. "I do admit, I don't like the sound of that," he said wryly, still smiling.

"And meanwhile I'm worrying all about these mage lessons with Numair for wind arrow shooting and nightly meetings with some of the most important nobles in Tortall to figure out what we're doing about the Shadows." Inar's face fell slightly.

"You haven't told me much since that first meeting," he mentioned, watching her annoyed face. "What's Numair holed up in his study doing, anyway? I know it's got something to do with all of this-" Deryne sighed.

"He's trying to find the Shadowmaster." She grimaced. Inar frowned.

"I don't think you've ranted to me about that yet," he said thoughtfully. "Shadowmaster? Is that some invincible, leader-type Shadow?" Deryne sighed.

"If only it was," she muttered. "Then I could blow it to bits…." She noticed the disapproval on Inar's face as they finally reached the door; he despised talking about the way she- _they_- had killed the Chaos immortals. "No. It's a person." Inar looked over at her as they entered the corridor, which was dark compared to the bright morning light. "Someone- probably a mage- had to release the Shadows in the first place." Inar scowled, then swore.

"-damned fool," he said darkly. "And hard to find, if Master Salmalin's been working this long on it." Deryne nodded, watching as emotion played across her companion's face.

"A needle in the haystack," she agreed ruefully. "But, honestly-" She lowered her voice, even though the passageway was deserted. "Inar, I don't think he's going to find this person. He's either with the Shadows… or-" She bit her lip, remembering the words of the Ysandir. "Ylanda said something… that made it seem like the Shadowmaster isn't like any that she's heard of or seen before. She made it sound like she thought that maybe someone won their allegiance accidentally- that he or she doesn't even know-" Inar stumbled to a stop; he had nearly tripped down the stair before them. Instead, he ungainly recovered on the step, grabbing onto Deryne to steady himself. "Who's being clumsy now?" she sassed, lips curling up as she remembered how her fellow squires used to tease her about the occasional accident. Inar turned to stare at her, face pale. "What's wrong? Surely a little drop didn't scare a valiant warrior of the kingdom like-"

"Accidentally?" he echoed, eyes wide. "How in Chaos could someone do that?" Deryne shrugged.

"Well, from what we know, we _think _the Shadowmaster is the one who frees them-" Inar still hadn't let go of her; she had not noticed until he tightened his grip on her. Then he shook his head and smiled.

"Sorry." He released her. "Just… it could be _anyone_. Anyone at all." His wondering tone made Deryne snort.

"Yeah. Exactly," she replied. "C'mon. I want food."

* * *

_AN: And now... english and history essays! Whoopee...  
_


	34. Chapter 33: The Needle

* * *

Alrighty- I am begging for forgiveness, for THIS delay and those to follow. Back at school now, I only have weekends to write, so I'll try for once a week now, but it might take two weeks. Enjoy this chappie- it's the last one before stuff REALLY starts to roll, but I do have a lot to go. (as anyone who's read The Jaguar Goddess knows, my endings get long... but hopefully not boring! ;D) Thank you, readers and reviewers, for sticking with despite lame and slow updates. My reviewers- **SarahE7191**, **BACswimma**, **Lemondropxxx**, **Cymru na Alethaira**, **Evilstrawberry**, **twilightm00n**, **Shang Leopard**, and **KyrieofAccender**, my AWESOME beta. Here you go!

* * *

_Chapter 33_

_The Needle_

"That… is very interesting." Sir Myles leaned back in his chair with a soft groan. His skin stretched over his bony shape so tightly it made Deryne worry it would crack at any moment. She glanced over at Inar, who was watching the old man cautiously as though the same thoughts churned around in his mind. Myles lifted a wrinkled hand to support his chin as he thought. "Old Ones… the Ysandir. The traitors. And they were deeply affected by you and your magic." He pursed his lips together. "Perhaps this means your powers _are _Old Magic, undiluted from the days of the Old Ones." The folds in his face tripled as he smiled. "Perhaps some of those claims from ancient tests of miracles and godly beings amongst men are not so far off as I've always thought." Deryne's nerves fizzed.

"Could they be right about other things? The fables about waning and waxing powers, and the weeks before Midwinter?" Myles snorted.

"Possibly. But the ancients also believed in taking children and melding their souls with spirits of long dead heroes and scholars, Deryne," the old man said dryly. Deryne shivered. "In the hopes that the child would show the attributes and powers of the dead from the subtle possession spells, which would be a foolish power to meddle with, if they even _could._" He sighed, shaking his head. "I have ruins- Old Ones- at Barony Olau. I have not been there in some years," he added wistfully. "That is where Alanna was given her famous sword, Lightning." He smiled, eyes faraway. "I say given, though she found it, because she was tested, tested against death. She could not take the blade until she accepted it." He looked thoughtful. "An interesting test…. Perhaps the ruins are like those of the City and these caves." Inar grimaced.

"If your fief is anything like them, I will not be visiting it anytime soon." Myles chuckled.

"Are you braver than your friend, Queenscove?" he asked, turning to her. She laughed.

"I suppose I'll have to be, at some point- I need to check these vents, don't I?"

"Hmm… true." Myles nodded with a faint frown. "I'll have to tell later Irnai to inform the king that you have my consent to wander about my fief if there is need. Tell me if you do find anything; in all my years of exploration, I've found nothing." He chuckled softly, his next few words almost spoken to himself. "But that's just what I told Alanna, wasn't it?"

* * *

An afternoon of flipping pages in the royal library would make anyone tired; Inar was fighting to keep his eyes open as evening fell. Despite all efforts, his eyelids sank finally… his restless hand stopped its rustling movement of paper, and that was when he realized how silent it was; there could not be another soul in the entire library. There was a stillness that sent shudders down his spine; by the time he realized the dream was beginning again, it was too late for him to stop it. His body went cold as his mind flared up in panic for a moment before it was smothered again.

He heard his little sister crying; it always started like that.

Darkness, and silence- except for his cry of dismay. He fought, trying to pull away from the dream- trying to remember something besides it… but the memory was too strong, and swept him up in a current that forced him to forget everything as he struggled to stay afloat and not drown underneath the flood.

Then a _roar _of color, noise, and pain washed over him; a huge Scanran warrior hauled him across the ground. The bruise on his side flared in agony as he hit the rocks and roots that littered the ground.

He came in and out, during that time, all those years ago- which meant that now his memory could only torment him in flashes, thankfully- the glowering giant, the circle- the spells that pulled apart his insides and ripped at his mind and lumped them back together in a momentarily stunned haze before the next round… There were men besides the raiders… ones garbed in mage robes- without the Scanran fair hair and pale skin… skin and hair like his-

And the young man, with the blue eyes whispered arcane words in his ear as he sweated, waiting breathlessly for the next bout of agony…. His older sister, too, disappearing from his sight as she was torn away from him, sobbing, calling out his name.

He knew then that none of the fear in her eyes was for herself, as she pleaded and tried to retrain her firm grip on his small fingers.

And since then, the nightmares… no matter what they were, visions that tormented him, filling him with absurd fears… they bore down on him, holding him fast- A hand touched him, alighting on his shoulder gently.

"Inar?" He started, eyes snapping open as he turned; it was Deryne. He blinked as the dreams faded to the back of his mind, barreling back into the bowels of the murky darkness, deep in his memories.

"You look familiar," he said, brow furrowing. Deryne laughed.

"Wait a moment," she told him. "It will come back to you, I'm sure." Her sardonic smile told him she thought he could not recognize her. He shook his head; on an instinct, he reached up to touch her cool cheek, his other hand raised, telling her to wait for him to speak. He glared across the room, struggling to summon up the memory; he suspected he knew who it was.

"Someone…" He grimaced; it had been in his dream. One of his sisters… probably. Who else? His older sister, of course- it had to be. She had been about Deryne's age… maybe a year or so younger. He couldn't remember; neither did he dare think too hard about her. Any pleasant memories- any of her smiles- were lost underneath his last memories of her, of her screaming and crying his name…. He looked up into Deryne's puzzled eyes, surprised by the wave of emotion that rushed through him.

How many other girls would let him touch her cheek while he thought without any explanation? Without knowing what was churning through his mind?

Then again, Deryne _could _know… if she wanted.

No- she probably could not see into his mind with her little _gudruna_; not without breaking his mind and driving him mad. The walls in his mind were strong now. Stronger than those mages and spies had… he had been determined to be immune to such attacks, after….

He quickly dropped his hand and shook his head.

"Sorry," he apologized. "I thought it would come back to me."

"It's fine," she replied quickly. "Don't trouble yourself about it." She glanced down at the mountain beside him. "Those books are that dull, hmm?" Inar followed her gaze to the open book in front of him; he shut it as his memory returned. That was right… he had been reading, before he had fallen asleep.

"Trying to find anything about that symbol of yours," he explained. "Master Salmalin _is _a little distracted, after all. Then some things about Gates- for long term spells, there must be two Gates, to balance and bounce the spell off of each other. Also, that way, if one is erased, the other survives to preserve the spell long enough for another to be made."

"Did you and Ri do that?" Deryne asked, sitting down next t him. Inar shook his head.

"First of all, our spells were separate. Each was an individual, one time deal only. Plus, the Gate we used in the palace was rather permanent." _And, if Malvyn wanted a double Gate, _that _would probably be the second one he's using. _Deryne nodded once with a faint frown as she saw where her companion was headed.

"Do Ri and Malvyn do that?" she asked. Inar pressed his lips together and shrugged.

"Maybe." _Probably. _Malvyn seemed to be the type who would _love _the complexity of such a working…. Deryne's eyes caught a gleam of gold in Inar's hands. She pointed.

"What's that?" Inar looked down, startled for a moment.

"This?" He put the gold band on the table. "Nothing much- I was trying to see if I could incorporate elements of a Gate in it, see if it could bind Rikash's power for him. Then he wouldn't need those fancy bits with Malvyn anymore." Deryne sighed.

"What's so wrong about Malvyn? Did he rub you the wrong way?" she asked dryly before grinning. "Ignore your gloomy and tragic airs?" Inar grimaced.

"I don't know- it's like cats. I hate cats," he elaborated shortly when Deryne raised an eyebrow. "But I don't know _why_- it's just a feeling."

"Are you sure you aren't just mad at Ri?" she asked slowly.

"Mad?" She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

"You know- the special mage goes away and forgets all about his old friends," she recited sardonically. Inar smiled.

"That may be part of it," he admitted, blue eyes watching her lazily. "But that's just it- _you _would never do something like that. I should hope," he added wryly. Deryne smiled back.

"No- I wouldn't. Not ever," she assured him. "But Ri's different- you know that."

* * *

In November, Mequen returned with news of his sister; from what Deryne heard, it seemed that their Islander friends had had a few exciting months, with an organized rebellion of mage priests armed with the power of a goddess bent on vengeance against Kyprioth, God of the Isles. Cyne's brother told her that Cyne had promised in her letter that she would write to Deryne soon.

"It sounds like she wants to spend a bit more time on yours," he said, a glint of curiosity in his eyes. "More details on the battles, I'll bet- but I'm certain it will come soon- tell me if there's anything interesting she forgot to tell me." Deryne smiled in reply, then- when Mequen went to speak to Sir Myles- went to her rooms to write her own letter to Cyne with a short explanation of what had occurred at the Black City.

_It seems that neither Ri or I have the Gift- I am hoping you don't worry or become angry when I tell you that maybe you are the same… after all, there is an odd uniqueness to our strengths… and I have already written what the Ysandir said to me. They are almost as bad as Irnai! _The girl shook her head, thinking of the old prophecy the seer had told her.

_Maybe she confused me with the drapes, _she thought dryly, recalling Rikash's heated struggle with his magic that year. _Those_ had certainly been doomed from the moment the boy had caught fire. She snickered at the thought as she completed her letter, hoping it would reach her friend sometime before spring.

* * *

Deryne caught a glimpse of someone out of the corner of her eye as she dashed through the open courtyard in front of Balor's Needle; Irnai was walking towards the famous tower- infamous, in her Aunt Kel's mind- her black hair billowing in the winter breezes. Deryne jogged to catch up to her.

"Irnai?" The woman smiled when she turned and caught sight of Deryne.

"Hello!" she replied brightly before she returned to humming softly under her breath. "I _knew _you would find me!" She strode into the Needle; Deryne followed and cast a quick spell to illuminate the stairwell Irnai seemed intent to walk up. Deryne had not been up there in years, since the time of childhood dares… even though it _had _been hinted she should try meditating and using _gudruna _up there. "Fair one and foul, one and two- And _four_!" the seer exclaimed, face lighting up like that of a child. "Four winds and seasons- no longer are only summer and winter and days of fallen leaves awoken! Spring is here!" With a dry smile and glance out the nearest window, which revealed the newest film of snow coating the ground outside, Deryne nodded.

"Four, four- north, south… east, west- all here! Lady North," she added, tossing her hair back as she looked back at the squire, who fell into step with her as they ascended the winding staircase. "Found her sire, has she?" She beamed at Deryne, who shrugged, not sure how to reply when the woman was nattering on about nonsense. "Frejonak," Irnai said simply to her companion before walking on. Deryne's jaw dropped; she stared after the woman for a moment before remembering to how to walk again.

"Frejonak?" she echoed, footsteps pounding against the steps. "What do you know about him?" Irnai snorted, gesturing to her head.

"He makes most of the mess," the seer replied matter-of-factly. "Most of it, Deryne!" The squire narrowed her eyes. So Irnai was not so gone with her visions that she could not recognize the girl, which meant the seer _could _answer questions posed to her. Now. "Frejonak… and Yama," she added.

"There's a connection?" Deryne prompted hurriedly, excitement rising. "Between Frejonak and Yama?"

"North and south," Irnai told her.

"Opposites?" The woman frowned at this, then shook her head.

"There are no opposites, not really. There are _four_," she said. "Four of a kind- kings and queens, gods, really…. _Your _kind are gone, mostly. That will change; there's going to be a birth! More old anew!" Deryne grimaced; the words were making her head pound.

"Please, Irnai," she pleaded. "I can't understand- can you… explain- tell me-" The seer shrugged, then tapped her head again.

"You can _see_, too," the seer answered. "Better than most- because you _see _them, like me… all their thoughts, all those whispers, running through you." She shakes her head mournfully. "But I hear the divine, the Forever… and they wish they could be me." She laughed shortly. "They wish they could be you, too, Deryne. There is power they cannot have; power that has been placed out of their greedy reach-"

"You sound like the Ysandir," Deryne muttered. They were silent for awhile; Irnai breath was growing short by the time they finally reached the top of the tower.

"Chaos and Gods," Irnai recited, flinging the doors to the balcony open before striding out with a royal air. "Fight, fight, fight! My thoughts are spinning- dizzy- I cannot speak. They do not let me reveal these things in plain verse; they silence my riddles, too… sometimes. It is the only way I can try to warn you, Deryne. Thoughts, thoughts- they _smother _my mind!" she said in a half-singing voice as she stared out ahead of her; the whole palace lay spread before them. "I am as bound as Frejonak. But he broke through to help you- I am powerless…. If you could _see _like I do-" She grabbed the squire's hand, whipping her around to stare into her eyes. Deryne opened her mouth, then stopped to narrow her eyes in sudden understanding.

"_Can _I see?" the girl whispered softly. Irnai's eyes sparkled.

"Not like I do, Lady North," she said, her quiet voice going through Deryne's head. "No seeing the paths and whispers of gods and mortals, no… but _you _can see what _I _do. Past and present and future. From here-" Irnai raised a hand to her temple, then reached out to skim Deryne's with her fingertips. "-to here." The squire swallowed heavily; Irnai wanted Deryne to read her mind. The most powerful seer of ages wanted _her _to see, as no other mortal did. Biting her lip, Deryne closed her eyes and opened her mind; she pushed out _gudruna_, which greedily rushed into Irnai's willing mind.

A flash of red hair; a sword plunged into a man's chest- purple eyes sparkling with tears… a handsome man casting a spell over a sword, hand glowing orange-

Like a painter peeling away an extra layer of paint to reveal the old one beneath it, she tugged at the walls binding her magic from Irnai's mind, seeking what she needed to know…. Echoes of her own memories came back to her, adding to the bewildering cacophony of images Irnai's mind struggled through; she saw Rikash a few times, even Cyne- Both looked older…. A shock went through her when a young woman popped up amongst the _gudruna_, one who smiled sardonically back at her with a spark in her gray-blue eyes; she saw _herself_. Any restraint she had retained fell; Deryne allowed the seer to pour through her mind-

Then she flinched back, alarmed at the sudden burst of overwhelming thought and feeling- She blocked the _gudruna_, trying to back away as she did so.

"Again," she heard Irnai order, voice unusually strong. "Don't think, Deryne. Don't try to make sense of anything. Just let them tell _you_. And stop just listening to me; open yourself to everything around us. _Now._" The squire trembled, then obeyed the seer; this time, she let them in more slowly.

_Magic is a tool, _Numair had told her once. _But yours even more so. Your Gift tends to tell _you _things so that _you _can do something about them. Certainly, you can summon wind and attack an enemy, but I feel as though it is not as effective as Rikash or even Inar's battle magic. _They _could rely completely on their Gift in a clinch. But you-Ideally, your body, mind, and magic must work in one, cohesive unit, like several squads of soldiers. Alone, they are weaker and might fail to defend themselves. Together, they are a formidable force-_

Deryne rarely understood half of what her teacher said, and she got the idea that he struggled to explain things in terms other might be able to comprehend. This was yet another case where she saw he was attempting valiantly to show her what he meant, and- since she felt guilty when she still didn't know what he was talking about after he had tried to so hard to convey his theory- she just nodded and changed the subject.

But now she felt as though she could _almost _grasp the concept, like she was groping blindly in the dark for something she could not name or picture, though she had an inkling that it was somewhere nearby.

_Gudruna _trickled in through her mind like a small stream makes its way into an immense cavern, slowly pooling within her mind and growing-

She did not try to understand them; she simply allowed the breezes to carry them through her and take them away again. Whispers and images dashed through her head, her eyes glazing over as she was lost in thought. Her mind drifted, calm and careless, not identifying anything that slide through her-

She did not know whether it had been seconds, hours, or days when she began to see a pattern in the flow-

Shapes continually mixed and melted to reveal completely new images- something beneath those _gudruna_- that were neither the coming or the leaving picture, pictures that seemed to glow in her darkened sight for a moment, as though she had just stared at the sun and could still see its fire when she closed her eyes. An eyelash, a palm, a figure… Voices rose and fell together, creating an echoing thud that thundered through her, dragging her into a dreamlike state. _A_ _pulse._

The air was _alive_. Some part of her, deep down, realized this with a stunned start. But she was too wrapped up in the pulse and too calm to care much.

"Now you _see_," a voice said, a smile in it, but Deryne ignored it. She filed the revelation away for later use, allowing more and more of the _gudruna _to creep through her.

Then one particular breeze slammed into her, forcing one particular _gudruna _to fill her mind and latch on to her; a snarling, grotesque woman with eyes that changed, again and again and again, always with a sparkle of multi-colored light gleaming behind them-

A cold, guttural laugh escaped her; Deryne's heart pounded in panic as the pulse and every other mysterious image hiding on the undercurrents of the wind shattered. Scaly hands grabbed her shoulders; she flinched away.

_"This is what happens when you fiddle with magic," _she laughed mockingly. Deryne tried to block her mind, but it was too late; the woman was there, everywhere- When her eyes turned a liquid amber that seemed to emanate Rikash's coldness from that summer day years ago, Deryne felt something inside her crack, again. She could feel the hideous hag's suffocating breath as the woman leaned in to whisper. _"Just remember the consequences, girl."_

With a strangled cry, Deryne felt herself thrown down, falling for what seemed an eternity, caught in the hag's mocking laughter until she slammed into cold, smooth stone. Her eyes snapped open; she was lying on the balcony's floor, several feet away from the edge. She imagined falling over the side of the tower and shuddered, wishing with all her heart that she had never learned she had had a Gift.

Her eyes rose to see Irnai watching her, smiling sadly and serenely at her. Snow was beginning to fall again; the seer did not move as it tumbled down from the skies above, landing on the very edge of her nose. Her eyes blinked once as the wind swept her skirts to the side.

"Now you know," she whispered. "Now… you know as much as anyone can tell you. But _she _hides the rest; _she _is the balance that silences them- Frejonak, Yama, Ylon and his mate- _she _even keeps _me _from telling you, too." She stepped forwards and knelt to cover Deryne's shivering hand with her warm one. "But _she _fears you, Deryne… why would she scare someone if they were no threat to her?" She sighed, eyes sliding from Deryne's gaze to the clouds above them. "And now you are on your own. But not alone."

* * *

Deryne was not surprised when she received Cyne's letter in mid-December; what she had _not _expected was that it was a _reply _to her own letter. If she had been amused by the convenient but irregular speed both letters had been received in, she was stunned by Cyne's story, noticing that the familiar parts that sounded so fantastical in Mequen's words were much tamer than the new details her friend now confided in her. It was a lengthy letter and, having received it after breakfast, Deryne read through lunch, unable to tear herself away from the narrative, which seemed so much more real in Cyne's neat pen.

_I don't want anyone to know about this, except maybe Rikash. Perhaps you are right. Whenever I think about what happened, I can't help but remember the two of you and that spell…._

Deryne devoured every word of Cyne's adventure, chills running down her back as the Islander described her final fight. To have done what she had-

_Ri _did _say she's stronger than me, _she reflected bitterly. But _still. _It was impossible.

_I have wondered if Kyprioth gave me divine power to end it, but I don't think he could have. He was trapped, until _I _freed him. In any case, I can't see him not bragging about it, if he had…._

_I don't know if all of this has helped me deal with my Gift, or it I'm even more scared of it, if you can believe that. _Deryne smiled wryly, but her amusement faded rapidly as she read on. _My magic sets Damek on edge. Another mage tested me years ago and never spoke to me again. My fathers refused to tell me what the man said about me. _

_But what worries me the most is what the Jaguar Goddess said, before she tried to possess me. _Deryne had to flip back through the letter to reread the goddess's words and frowned. It reminded her as the babbles of the Ysandir.

"We're just in such great demand," she muttered, shaking her head.

_Maybe she was just trying to get at me, but why bother lying? She assumed she would win. She would have lost nothing to reveal anything and everything to me if I had died. Instead, she wanted my blood, which can used to take magics away from someone. Damek has been researching this for months with me. _

"Been doing more than studying with him." Deryne smirked, noting the parts where Cyne tried and failed to describe the boy to her in unbiased detail. "Good for you."

_She wanted _me_, and I will never forget the look on her face before she was destroyed; I can't _try _to explain it, and if I did, I could not say the blasphemous thought aloud- after all, gods do not worship mortals._

"That explains it well enough," Deryne said softly, brow furrowed. _And why shouldn't she? Anyone able to destroy a _goddess_- _She shuddered as new questions formed in her head. Could Rikash do the same? Could she?

"Maybe we aren't so similar, us and Cyne," she mumbled to herself, fingering with the paper. "Maybe not-"

Deryne guessed that the vision of the green lady from the sea meant the Wavewalker, or some similar goddess, was Cyne's patron. And if Rikash did not have some odd connection to Yama, Deryne would stick herself in another room with her flaming friend.

"Me, Frejonak," she whispered aloud, staring back down at her friend's scribble. "Cyne, Wavewalker. Ri, Yama." Then she sighed. "I just _wish _I knew what it meant. If it means anything at all."

* * *

Towards the end of December, Deryne found that spending time with her old friends, who were returning with their knight masters from all over to gather for Midwinter, was getting harder and harder; between strategic meetings against the Shadows and all the parties that Sir Alan was obliged to attend. Most of the time, she did not have to serve, but her presence was still required.

"As a young knight of affluence, I can't _not _have my squire nearby at all times," the man told her, a small smile on his face. "I might tear my tunic, and what would I do then? Walk all the way to my chambers to change? Certainly not if I have my own little lackey."

"Happy to be of service, milord," Deryne retorted with a sardonic bow. "What other services do you need me to perform for you? Tie your bootlaces? I understand it is a difficult task to grasp."

"_My _mother taught me how to tie my own laces, thanks." Alan rolled his eyes. "But I'm sure you could probably find some fops who _would _need that service performed for them."

For a "young knight of affluence," Sir Alan did _not _do much dancing or socializing with the young debutantes of the court.

"Most of them are too young and frivolous," he complained at one gathering. "And those who aren't are dull-witted and peculiar." Deryne eyed him with a frown.

"You mean they are stupid and unattractive," she accused. "Which is unfair, if you will permit me to say so." Alan's eyes flickered to his squire's face and then back to the crowd shifting around before them as a smile appeared on his face.

"I won't deny it, Queenscove, but never fear my breaking hearts; _all _of them are looking for well-dressed little lords who lounge around at court all the time, waving their fathers' gold around like the proud gentlemen they are. I will go join my fellow, second-son warriors over _there_-" He jerked his head towards a group of knights his age. "-and we will sulk in the shadows and watch as the heirs charm their ladies." Deryne snorted. "Where are _your _little friends, anyway?" he added. She shrugged.

"Inar is probably running the servants, while the lord chamberlain runs around, panicking over some problem or another." Alan looked skywards.

"At least he stays in shape. It wouldn't do to have a portly, happy chamberlain, now would it?" he muttered before nodding. "Dismissed, squire of mine." Deryne did not have to look as far as the servants' hallways to find Inar; she ran into him before she left the party. He was dressed in blue with gray trimmings; his eyes twinkled at her as he nodded.

"Squire Deryne," he said formally. Deryne raised an eyebrow, then smiled.

"Squire Stiff-face," she retorted, deadpan. On unspoken consent, both wandered back over to the side of the gathering. "What brings you here? Did the chamberlain give you a night off, heavens forbid?"

"The king himself is helping me find another knight master who will take me for a few years before I become a knight," Inar answered. "So he suggested I show my face at these and talk to a few- see if I can get on good terms with anyone." Deryne glanced around; she did not see too many knights who would be looking for a squire. Some already had a squire, or servants, and others who had been eyeing her all night, as though thinking that a lady squire might suddenly whip into a mindless rage and destroy all in her path, were probably not the right choice for Inar, either.

"Alan is speaking with some others now," she said hesitantly. "Maybe one of his friends-" Inar shook his head.

"I talked to them first," he admitted in a low voice. "Most of them are not well-off enough to have a squire." Deryne grimaced.

"My aunt Kel's friends, then?" she tried. "Cadel will be home soon; there's that ridiculous ball in honor of Prince Jasson in a few weeks. We could try then." Inar nodded, gratefulness in his eyes. Then he smiled and bowed.

"In the meantime, then," he intoned wryly. "Would you dance?" Deryne stared at him, mouth half-open as she searched for a reply. She was shocked by the sudden panic rushing through her. Her stomach knotted; her head whirled.

"_Nooo_," she finally managed. "No, no- I am forever scarred after those deportment lessons as a page." Inar raised an eyebrow.

"What happened? I don't think I was there," he said, a ghost of a smile of his lips. Deryne made a face, regaining her composure quickly. She had prided herself on the fact that, after living for so many years with the rowdy lot of pages, _nothing _they did could surprise her. Apparently, she was wrong.

"Master of manners complained all the time that he had to teach me the girl part- which wasn't so bad for him, since it meant each of the boys could actually practice with a girl," she pointed out, mildly annoyed. "And then, after I tripped over my own feet and knocked over both my partner and Leo in year number two, he cried out to the heavens to bless the convent women who made proper young women out of left-footed savages and declared that the king could hire someone else to teach the horde of clumsy girls who had been thrown out of the convent, because he would _never _again do anything of the sort. Never mind that Ev and Laun stepped on my feet every time I was paired with one of them," she added vehemently, ignoring the smirk on Inar's face. "Although I'm pretty sure Laun did it on purpose."

"Ah, but you're much less clumsy now," Inar said softly, although there was laughter in his eyes. "You know exactly where to move, no matter if taken by surprise or if you plan your every motion before you step forth." Deryne shrugged.

"Magic- I cheat," she said simply.

"Not cheat," Inar replied, leaning closer. "The sheer force of your mind- the effortlessness- it's enviable," he admitted with a wry smile. Deryne swallowed heavily as he blinked; she could almost _feel _his eyelashes touch his cheek and rise back up again, even though she had closed her mind completely to the _gudruna _for the night. She shivered suddenly, and straightened to survey the nobility around them again; her head had been inclined towards Inar, but she had not realized how much until she looked away, cheeks burning.

"I'm not feeling too well," she said, putting a hand to her head; it spun as her cool hands touched her temples. "I dunno- I just-"

"Breathe slowly," Inar advised her. "If you swoon, the stiff-necks will _never _forget it. Laun won't, either," he added. Deryne concentrated on this, and took a deep breath.

"Laun's here?"

"I saw him a few minutes before I found you." Deryne grimaced; Cadel's year mate would _never _forget- or let her forget, either. "And-" Inar swore quietly under his breath. "Put your head up and look angry. Now." Confused, the girl looked up; her heart skipped a beat in horror as she saw Tynen of Kasem walking towards them. Her fists clenched; her eyes narrowed.

"_Why now_?" she hissed through gritted teeth. "When was he knighted?"

"A year ago or two?" Inar guessed before Kasem was within earshot. "Hello, Kasem." The young man sneered.

"Sir Tynen, now," he retorted. "Bow, squires. Show some respect." Deryne exchanged a glance with Inar; neither of them moved. "I hear you aren't going through the Ordeal on Midwinter, Ferensfell; you aren't backing out now, are you?" Inar smiled coldly; his eyes hard enough to send a shiver through Deryne. She noted that the stare troubled Kasem, too, although he strove to conceal it.

"Perhaps I'm not afraid of the hard, grunge work of the squire, which was something _you _could not wait to escape." The words were firm, too hard for Kasem to dispute. "I hear your Ordeal was troubling; the Chamber deemed it necessary to hold you a little longer than most, didn't it?" Kasem's dark eyes narrowed, even though his defensive stance told Deryne that Inar had scored a verbal hit.

"I'm here, aren't I? A knight of the realm. The Chamber knew I was stronger than most; it tested me for longest, because I am strongest." Deryne knew the Chamber refused to tell her about Ordeals- and would tell her to mind her own business, but she wanted to hear its version of _that _story. She rolled her eyes.

"Or you have the most to be put on trial for," Inar shot back, finally bowing to the other young man, who was slightly shorter than him, a gesture with all the sincerity of a thief. Then he turned and walked away. Deryne took after him, relieved to make an exit. But Kasem's hand snaked out to grab her arm, yanking her backwards just far enough for him to hiss in her ear.

"Last time I saw you, you weren't tagging along behind boys like a little handmaid. Or whore," he sneered. Deryne's jaw set; with a flick of her hand, a wind shoved back his fingers, snapping them backwards and off of her arm; she heard the bones crack as he recoiled. He swore, loudly enough for Inar and a few others to turn. "Witch," he snarled, furtively glancing around at the crowd, most of whom did not notice anything, as Inar took two long and quick strides to her side. "At least he looks out for you," he needled, face twisted in anger and pain. Deryne drew herself up, eyes blazing.

"I don't need looking out for," she snapped back before allowing her ire to cool; why let him see how angry he made her? A fierce smirk crossed her face. "You should know that by now, dog."

"Is there a problem?" Deryne looked away from Kasem; Sir Alan was there.

"More than one protector at a moment's notice. Been busy, Queenscove?" the younger knight murmured nastily under his breath. Deryne barely stopped herself from striking him.

_It's what he wants_, she thought to herself. _And I'm not some stupidly sensitive little girl- I can control myself. _Still, the urge to hurt him was difficult to suppress.

"I don't know," she answered her knight master. "That's up to _Sir Tynen_ here," she added sweetly, putting as much malice into his name as she could. Alan frowned down at the youth.

"The Chamber has given you the honor of knighthood," the man said severely. "I would hope _no one _would ever dare abuse that privilege." Kasem stared into Alan's eyes for a moment, then bowed deeply; it was clear who was in charge now.

"Of course, sir. Good night." Deryne did not relax until Kasem had disappeared through the crowd. Then she sighed, grabbing Inar by the shoulder; her legs felt as though they falling out beneath her. Alan looked at his squire with concern.

"What was that about?" he asked sharply.

"Old friends," Inar replied dryly. "Who can't resist harassing the to-be next female knight." He grabbed Deryne's elbow to support her subtly. "What did he say?" he asked softly. Deryne grimaced, then looked down at her hand, still clenching Inar. With a massive effort, she steadied herself and stepped away from him.

"The usual insults," she replied cheerfully. "He hasn't changed in our years apart. It's a pity; I was hoping he'd been more imaginative, with all his traveling and new-found strength." Alan snorted.

"Don't let his type bother you, Deryne- if he does again, feel free to beat his head into the ground; I'll take full responsibility." Deryne looked out into the shifting masses in front of her.

"I already did hurt him," she said in a quiet, dry voice. "It'll take even my father a few days to get his hand back to normal; harming his pretty face on top of that would just be bad sport." Inar rolled his eyes.

"I'm none of _us _would complain," he said candidly. Deryne grinned at him.

"Ah, well- hope springs eternal." Alan looked from one to the other.

"Everything is fine, then?" Deryne's grin broadened as Inar raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Yes," she answered. "Go dance with some too-young, giggling blondes, milord. Everything is quite fine."

* * *

_Excellent. Now that you've suffered through the last dull chapter of this story- go review! It'll make me even more eager to get on with the action. Maybe it'll inspire me to finish my homework and write something up for tomorrow... ;D  
_


	35. Chapter 34: Four

* * *

THANKS TO REVIEWERS: **twilightm00n**, **Shang Leopard**, **Evilstrawberry**, **Cymru na Alethaira**, **Lemondropxxx**, **SarahE7191**, **ILoveCockatiels**, **BACswimma**. And thanks to my beta.

* * *

_Chapter 34_

_Four_

_January 14, 481 H.E._

Despite Inar's admirable mental defense- stronger, in ways, than those Numair tested her with- Deryne would always have a slight edge on him; his intent was perfectly masked until his body whipped into action, but that split second still kept her ahead where his strength might have otherwise made him the victor.

Sparring with him was as challenging as fighting Cadel; although he was not as naturally talented with the sword as her cousin was, the older squire's impenetrable defense- both physically and mentally- made him a formidable opponent. She always had to be careful with her _gudruna_'s information; on more than one occasion, the youth had stunned her with sending _fake _messages along the winds and into her listening ears. Some days, he was better at garbling the _gudruna _than others. Today was one of those days.

They clashed, striking twice before Deryne backed up, sword held out as she stepped carefully. Sweat was dripping down her forehead; her muscles shook. They had been going at it for awhile now, and she was not going to be the one to call for a break. Instead, she waited for an opening, determined to take the first one she saw; she summoned the rest of her speed and strength as his blade snaked out to the side. As the metal gleamed, she lunged forwards.

She slammed her sword into Inar's, then turned into him. Inar's eyes widened with surprise as she melded her body into his. Then she forced his sword to the ground with her new leverage and jabbed him in the stomach with her elbow. Hard.

With a groan, the other squire fell to the ground; Deryne pinned down the hand reaching for his sword with her foot, as gently as she could, before she pointed her sword's tip at him. With a grin, Inar yanked his hand out from underneath her boot and twisted her leg.

Swearing, Deryne tumbled downwards, managing to kick her opponent in the head in her fall.

"Ow," he said as he rolled up onto his knees to look down at her. Then he grabbed her arms and pinned them to the ground with his hands. She rolled her eyes, looking up at him as he leaned over her.

"Serves you right," she retorted. "I had you vanquished- I just didn't want to hurt your arm." Eyes gleaming, Inar shifted so that all his weight bore down on his hands.

"Do you _really _think _this _is painful?" The pressure was more comfortable than she would have expected; his death grip was not. She sighed.

"You've made your point; all _your _weight doesn't hurt _me_, so all my weight wouldn't hurt _you_- but I was _stepping _on you. There's a difference." Inar inclined his head; their faces were inches apart as he spoke. Deryne could not breathe; maybe his hold was tighter than she had thought….

"Mercy is rarely rewarded," he told her in a gentle murmur. "I would think you would have learned that by now."

* * *

"Hello, Numair," Deryne sighed dramatically. "Any news for me? Any invasions of Shadows or word of the symbol thingy?" Her teacher surveyed her sternly. "No, then?"

"Sit down, Deryne," he told her.

"That bad?" she drawled, plopping down in her chair. "Not half so terrible as the doom awaiting me when I leave here, I'll bet ten gold crowns that I don't have." The mage rose an eyebrow in question. "The party for Prince Jasson," she elaborated. "Everyone there and my mother insisting I wear something nicer than usual- since my cousin is squire to the Champion. You'd think in that case I should emphasis my squire status _more_ with breeches and tunic, not hide it behind frills and lace." The man snorted. "She's entrusting me to Vanora!" she added indignantly. Numair let out a bark of laughter at that. "Me, at fifteen winters, being handed over to my little cousin for dress-up!" She glowered at the chuckling black robe.

"I'm sorry," he managed, smoothing his expression. "If you wish, you can escape early and come back here; I am going to return to here for more research after paying my respects to His Highness." Deryne sighed and slunk back. "I could teach you a few good illusion spells right now- with the kind of power you have, even I would have a hard time seeing the working, let alone what face it masks."

"It's fine," she grumbled. "What news?"

"From the outlines of the Olau ruins Myles gave me, I've pinpointed seven potential vent spots," Numair said severely. "If I am correct- and there are that many vents in use- we might not be able to wait until spring." Deryne rolled her eyes.

"Which means slogging through the wet slush," she said dryly. "Along with all the rest of those fun details of the job. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," she added, standing. Numair leaned back in his chair.

"The first report of a disappearance, and we must go. You can try to hide from Vanora now." She groaned.

"I don't suppose we could leave tonight?" she queried. "Better mud than face paint." The man smiled and shook his head.

"You say that now," he replied. "See you tonight."

* * *

"_Please, _Deryne," Vanora pleaded. "For me?" With a sound that sounded like a combination of a groan and a horse's snort, Deryne eyed the mirror in distaste. Her cousin was already dressed in a modest but lovely yellow dress; her mother would allow the twelve-year-old girl to attend the ball held in honor of Prince Jasson, since her brother _was _the Champion's squire. Vanora had nearly tripped over her own feet in delight when Kel had relented. On the other hand, Deryne suspected any tripping _she _did would be the gown's fault. _If _she wore it. Taking the white, silky fabric in her hand, she tugged experimentally to determine how long the limiting garb would let her stride be. She grimaced; not long enough. "And with your hair up- properly, of course, not like you usually yank it back for sparring- you won't even know yourself."

"I don't know myself _now_," Deryne said pointedly, trying to squelch the tiny prick of pleasure and curiosity in the back of her mind. She couldn't _move_; how in Chaos was _that _appealing? She tried to gaze at the young woman before her without looking too fascinated. She had flatly refused face paint of any sort, but there was still a debutante staring back at her, the same kind she, Cadel, and Rikash used to torment in their childhood romps about the palace.

She would see both of them tonight; Numair had had enough with his son's elusiveness. Supposedly, he would be bringing the famous Malvyn and another friend. Interrupting her thoughts, Vanora took Deryne's hand and spun. Relenting, Deryne twisted and spun around and back again with her, neatly weaving around the complex steps the other girl executed before bowing dramatically. Vanora laughed; they made a mismatched pair, and not only because of the difference in height. In spite of both girls' fluid movements, Deryne had a smooth elegance that contrasted sharply with her cousin's quick bounciness. Then the younger girl turned to rummage through her mother's small box of jewelry.

"Don't look at me like that," the small girl ordered as she pulled out a thin, silver chain and pearl earbobs. "Mother told me I could." Deryne doubted that; still, she felt nothing but bewilderment amusement as she watched her younger cousin come up behind her to add her new finds to the ensemble. There was no end to the entertainment Vanora provided for the squire; even though she was _tiny_- and probably would always be- there was an _energy _and forcefulness to her that left Deryne ruefully obeying her every imperious command. The battle of wills had been won from the moment Deryne submitted to Vanora's insistence that they prepare in her aunt's chambers together; the older girl knew she would wear the gown, and everything else Vanora heaped upon her. Except the face paint.

"What next?" she sighed, and Vanora beamed.

"Sit down," she ordered, reaching up for Deryne's hair. "Don't worry- the torture's almost through."

* * *

"This is stupid," Deryne grumbled to her cousin, who had not stopped smiling since they entered half an hour before. The two cousins were standing on the edge of everything, waiting for the entrance of the prince- and his squire. "An absolute farce." She glowered down at the gown. "Aunt Kel isn't wearing one; I look ridiculous in this."

"Who ever said all lady warriors' outfits had to be coordinated?" Vanora demanded. She might have rolled her eyes, except that she acted proper in public. "You look perfect; I'll bet half the conservatives here haven't even recognized you. You could bedazzle their sons- be the mysterious maiden, gone by the stroke of midnight." Deryne snorted.

"I wouldn't ever bedazzle," she muttered, looking around for any of her friends. Even _Laun _would be a distraction from her wretched clothes. Maybe he would drop dead in shock at the sight of her; _that _possibly could have made the ordeal worth its awkward painfulness.

"_I _wouldn't say that," Vanora retorted. "I can point out several young men who were looking you over." Deryne laughed.

"_Oh, _well then!" she drawled. "Thanks- I've always wanted to feel like a cow in the market." Vanora risked a swat at her cousin's arm.

"You know what I mean," she retorted with a glare. Deryne raised an eyebrow.

"I do," she agreed. "And anyone watching me is probably suspecting me of blending in to better surprise my unsuspecting victims."

"What?" Deryne sighed; in spite of the fun she had with Vanora, they were still nothing if not different- in every way possible.

"Never mind. The point is, you are the pretty, delicate one- Leo's been stunned since you first met. Maybe you'll be the next royal terror." Now Vanora sighed, too.

"Look- _that _one has been watching you out of the corner of his eye since we got here." Vanora tilted her head over to their right, into the melee of color and movement. Deryne snorted.

"That helps, Nora," she retorted. Her little cousin glowered.

"The tall one," she said shortly. Deryne did not even bother glancing up; that would not help much, even if Vanora _was _right. "But if you aren't going anywhere-"

"I'm not. All night. I will stay right here, unless I see Rikash." Vanora shook her head; her dark curls bounced with the motion. For an absurd movement, Deryne wished she could be like that; endearing and demanding, little and elegant-

She would have driven herself mad by age ten if she had been. She smirked down at her cousin.

"Whatever you like," the girl said coldly, walking away. Deryne could not resist a parting shot.

"Don't forget to give Leo a kiss for luck!" she hissed with a wicked grin, hoping her voice carried just far enough. If Vanora heard, she gave no sign of it as she strode purposefully in the direction she had indicated before. Deryne's eyes narrowed as the small girl walked up to Inar-

_Inar? _Deryne's mind whirled as her cousin smiled up at the tall young man and began to talk. She smiled and said something; he laughed. Deryne's fists clenched as she fought the urge to pull _gudruna _towards her. It was Inar- Inar was the young man.

_Of course he was looking, _she thought, whirlwind panic in her mind dying. _Probably unable to believe his eyes- maybe he wasn't even sure it was me. _

They were both looking at her now; she smiled and gave a feeble wave. Her insides cringed as he headed towards her, smiling. She made a face when he reached her.

"Couldn't tell me apart from everyone else here, hmm?" Inar's eyes glittered.

"I knew it was you from the moment I saw you," he answered. Deryne smirked.

"So you let me stew in humiliation by myself? Good friend you are," she drawled. He seemed a little surprised.

"You seemed happy enough with your cousin; I don't think she remembers me." Deryne shook her head.

"I don't think she does. She told me a tall young man over there was looking at- us." Inar smiled crookedly.

"She told me something interesting, too," he replied. "She tells me you are a beautiful dancer." Deryne shot a glare in her young cousin's gaze; Vanora was watching them several yards away. She beamed back at the glower.

"Last time I dance with you," she muttered under her breath. Then her narrowed eyes slid to Inar. "Backed into a tight corner, am I?" Inar shrugged.

"If you don't _want _to dance with me, you ought to say so," he replied. Deryne's mouth went dry; his eyes gleamed. "Too scared to speak?"

Her heart seemed to falter; Deryne grimaced.

"Later," she muttered, then swore to herself.

"Is this a promise I hear?" Inar was smiling; she could hear it in his voice, even as she looked out over the crowd.

"Yes. Fine." She could always escape to Numair's sanctuary, long before the night was over.

"You know, I almost remembered who you remind me of," he continued conversationally.

"Did you, now?" she sassed, trying to fight the trembling sensations wracking her body. It couldn't be coincidence, that she felt so nervous- almost _ill­_- whenever Inar mentioned dancing. The idea of letting him take her hand sent chills through her. A suspicion was forming in the back of her mind, one she treated with as much caution and fascination as a child might treat an open flame.

Love? Surely not, even though she had rarely spoken to another one of their friends in the months since she returned from the Black City. Since they reached that odd, silent understanding… one that had made them much closer than they had ever been in the five years since he had volunteered to be her sponsor. There had been moments, in the past few weeks, when he would put a hand on her shoulder, or laugh- Sometimes, when they dueled, there were times when a touch seemed to take an eternity.

It was _something_, something that made her altogether too light-headed.

She cleared her throat.

"Who?" she asked, a little quieter. Inar was not looking at her when she risked a glance.

"I thought it was my sister," he admitted. Deryne waited; he was silent. Was this the first time he mentioned anything about his family? His eyes narrowed; his jaw clenched. "I dream about her. About _them_," he continued darkly. "That's why I can still see her face, even after all these years… if I dare to remember. But all I can picture is the look on her face when they took her away." Deryne could not find words to say anything; she wondered if she dared put a hand on his arm. Then he shook his head. "Sorry." His voice wavered as he put a hand up to his face. "But it's not her- it's someone else," he stated roughly. Lips parted, brow furrowed, Deryne leaned closer.

"Are you crying?" The idea was stunning- impossible, and yet, when Inar looked at her, his eyes seemed to gleam a little brighter than usual.

"Not a few days before Midwinter," he replied with a more customary dryness. Deryne gave him a small smile and held out her hand.

"Dance?" she asked softly.

Just then, horns sounded, marking the entrance of the Most Honored Guest.

"I though he'd never get here," Deryne muttered with a grin as they turned with the quieting crowd. "His Highness is very practical; I suspect it was Cadel who held them up." She felt Inar's body shake with a quiet laugh as Prince Jasson was announced. As he descended, Cadel dutifully following, the entire crowd sank into bows and curtsies. In a brief mental struggle, Deryne considered the likelihood of tripping over her skirts in a curtsy and resorted to a bow.

_What does it matter, anyway? _she thought as the prince and his squire entered the crowd, who promptly began their loud chattering again.

"Didn't Master Oakbridge teach you curtsies?" Inar queried.

"That he did." Deryne rolled her eyes. "But when have I _ever _needed to remember how to do them in the past three years?"

"Not even in your dancing sessions with your cousin?" Inar prodded. Deryne grinned.

"Nora made me dance the boy's part every time," she retorted. "Don't tell me you _didn't _expect that."

"I just hope you remember the woman's part," Inar said dryly. "I'm afraid I never learned it myself."

* * *

Deryne struggled with barely coherent thoughts and painfully aware senses as she danced; every time Inar pulled away, she felt as though they were connected by miniscule threads that left her pulse thundering. Jolts of energy rushed through her when they did touch; she wondered how she was only noticing it now.

_Magic of the ball, _she thought dryly. _Or some silliness like that- it'll be gone once I get out of this blasted dress. _She hoped; sparring had potential complications, if this kept up.

Thankfully, Inar did not try to talk to her as they danced; that would have been too much for her to do at once. Instead, she had to fight the singsong, shrill thoughts in her mind.

_He's watching you…. _His gaze was much heavier than usual. When she looked up at him, they exchanged a quick smile before both ducking their heads; Deryne jerked her head back to avoid a possible collusion.

She was able to retain some semblance of intelligence when they found Cadel and Mequen; the four friends talked as people streamed in and out of the huge room, some stopping to greet them and others only acknowledging them with a cold look.

"Where's Leo?" Mequen snorted, then looked at Cadel, whose jaw set.

"He's busy with my sister," he muttered. Deryne smothered a smile.

"In what sort of way?" she queried, earning a glare from her older cousin.

"_Talking_," he replied irritably. Deryne grinned.

"Well, there are worse things-" Cadel elbowed her.

"She's _twelve_," he grumbled.

"And he's thirteen," she countered logically.

"And more annoying than Aloin." Deryne had to laugh at the expression on Cadel's face. "Don't you dispute that- you're the one who first pointed it out."

"Long ride home?" she asked cheerfully before turning to Mequen. "A good night's sleep and he'll be as friendly as ever." Cadel let out a sharp laugh.

"That good night's sleep might be long in coming," he prophesized with the air of noble who had just found out his fief had flooded. "I wouldn't be surprised if I never get to bed."

* * *

Deryne was wandering thorugh the crowd, still trying to puzzle out her sudden feelings for Inar when she caught sight of Numair speaking with a youth she did not recognize. In a few steps, she reached the pair and smiled.

"How are you, Master Salamlin?" she asked politely. The man looked skywards.

"Better now, that my son has left me with a new puzzle to unravel," he replied, gesturing to the boy standing next to him. "Han, Deryne of Queenscove. Deryne, this is one of Rikash's friends- Eoghan . He wants to study at the University, and Rikash figured that if I mentioned it, Master Hayward would be more likely to accept him." Deryne exchanged a quick smile with the gangly, strawberry blond young man. He was only a little taller than her, but had an awkwardness to his thin frame that told her he was not finished with growing. "Almost twenty- but I feel like he could be placed in an accelerated program, like Rikash was." Then he stopped. "Sorry- I think aloud," he apologized to Han. "As Deryne will tell you."

"I do not mind," the youth replied with a smile before looking back at the girl. His voice was deep and calm; his gentle features told Deryne he was not someone who angered easily. Interested in any new companion of one of her oldest friends, she took in his wide mouth and freckled nose- She swallowed heavily when they locked gazes; this time, she noticed the odd quality of his eyes- there was an odd shimmer there that made her hold his stare a moment longer than she would have otherwise. Han gave her a small, inquisitive smile. "You could be very frightening, if you wanted." Deryne blushed, taken off-balance by the unexpected comment.

"I can't say I know how to reply to that," she muttered before turning back to Numair. Somehow, Cyne was coming to the forefront of her thoughts; when they met, her uncontrolled, wild power had overwhelmed Deryne. Now, the squire had not sensed the smallest whisper of magic from Han, but the look in his eyes was haunting her, insistingly bringing the Copper Islander to mind. She opened her mouth to ask the question on the tip of her tongue, then realized how rude it would be to ask the black robe mage when Han was standing right there. She turned back to the young man. "Your Gift- I mean, for Ri to notice you-" She felt tongue-tied and mean, speaking of her friend this way; it made him sound so shallow. "-how powerful?" Han frowned, cocking his head to the side.

"I don't know," he confessed. "Compared to all the great mages of Tortall? Not so much, of course- I only came to the University because he and Malvyn told me I should be there. And I really didn't have any other place to go."

"Han learned excellent control at a young age," Numair explained brusquely. "The people in his town did not take very kindly to his magic." Deryne frowned.

"The Gift is acknowledged everywhere," she protested. "How-" Her teacher raised his eyesbrows, nodding as though she was missing something important. Then it clicked.

Cyne. He reminded her of Cyne. Cyne, who was like her and Rikash- Her eyes widened; her jaw dropped.

"Popping out of the woodwork, the lot of you," Numair murmured with a grin. "Would you care for a demonstration, Deryne?" She looked back at Han with a frown.

"What can _you_ do?" The question was harsh. She winced. "Sorry- I just meant that I do things I shouldn't be able to, and Ri-" She had no words for him; she only shrugged. Han shrugged back.

"I think I shook the earth. Once," he added, as though he was stating the tax rates of the kingdom. She stared at him, confused. Could it be that he meant what she _thought _he meant?

"What-"

"Earthquake- a small one," Numair explained for deryne's benefit. "But you're more used to dealing with plants, right?" he continued hastily, as though trying to cover up Deryne's sudden reaction. She could feel the blood draining from her face.

"We aren't a good lot to be around, are we?" she asked shakily. So that made four- four of them- how many more…? Four! Deryne's eyes widened; that was it!

_Four is an important number in our world. Whether it be the fundamental elements or directions, great Houses or gods, four or one of its multiples- _Deryne's head spun; she put a hand out, trying to steady herself. Four… it was the number! Irnai's number!

_And _four!_ Four winds and seasons… There are _four_… Four of a kind- kings and queens, gods, really…. Your kind are gone, mostly. _As far as she remembered, it had been four! _They come- they come to heal and slay…. They come to restore their glory…. And they rely on the chosen…. But how shall we stand? Only three are awake- no, four! But he only plays with flower petals! _Han- did Numair say plants? _Me, Frejonak. _The word roared through her mind, back and forth. _Cyne, Wavewalker. Rikash, Yama. _Words of Ylon and Ylanda whipped around in the cacophony. _But I will say no more. I would like to see this child, who plays with powers that make the gods shiver... It has a tongue-no wonder he chose her…. Send Uusoae screaming and swearing against you. Show her what fear is. Only you and your kind can. _Numair and Han were talking again. _I placed too much in you for you to fail….. _That was what Frejonak had said to her, through Irnai. What else had he said? Blindly, she reached out and grabbed her teacher's arm; he stopped talking abruptly.

"Numair," she said quietly. "The sign." The sign- the one inscribed on her kidnapper's ring, in the temple floor of the place she and Cyne had been left, on the red book Blayce had written Thom's notes in- it was all part of this! _A test, of sorts. I enjoy challenges, even more when I succeed. _Who had her kidnapper been testing? Himself… or her? If her- why? _I do not mean you harm, Queenscove. It is a fantastic Gift. A great and powerful one. An old one. _

It was a circle; a chain- One Ones. The Old Ones. Betrayed by the gods. A race between the divine and undivine- with powers greater and lesser than theirs. _They knew so much… things the gods could not make sense out of…. _And Irnai, again! _They wish they could be you, too, Deryne. There is power they cannot have; power that has been placed out of their greedy reach. _And words she had never heard… words the Jaguar Goddess had spoken, that seemed to ring in her ears as though she had been in the Islands with Cyne. _But you cannot kill me, brother!_ _You cannot destroy me- only magics above you can do that! _Magics that _Cyne _had wielded...

"I need to know what it is," she said icily, not knowing, as she looked up at him, her gaze seemed to pulse. Gray and blue storms hardened the powerful orbs, threatening a brewing hurricane if everything before her did not give way. She only saw Numair pale; Han took a step back. "The symbol. _Now._"

"I knew it," Han muttered to himself; it was only thanks to the _gudruna _that Deryne heard. "Dangerous." Despite his sudden wariness, the black robe mage's face took a thoughtful look.

"Is there something you aren't telling me?" he asked mildly. Deryne's eyes narrowed. Then she relaxed, forcing the sudden wave of intense worry and frustration away.

"I don't have the time to tell you," she admitted softly. "Although I suppose it isn't that important-" Her voice died away feebly as her teacher gave her a look; since when did she act like that for nothing? "Numair- can I look at those books?" She could almost see the thoughts rushing through the man's head.

"Why don't I look?" he suggested. "And you and Han can catch up with Rikash and his other friend."

"Malvyn?" Deryne was caught off balance; torn between sudden curiosity and the new urgency her revelation was forcing upon her, she wavered, unable to give either option much thought. Han nodded.

"They dashed off a few seconds before you came, Deryne," he said, jerking his thumb back behind his shoulder. "We can catch them."

"Catch who?" Deryne jumped; Inar had appeared behind them.

"Inar," she said, turning her back on Han and Numair, who was taking his leave of them for his study. "Irnai's prophecies- the ones I've been telling you about- they fit, with what the Ysandir said! And the man who kidnapped me and Cyne! Everything connects," she elaborated quietly, glancing over furtively at Han, who looked off in the other direction. "Four people- me, Rikash, Cyne, and Han here!" Inar's bright eyes widened; his gaze swiftly shot over to survey Han. "The ones with the old magic the gods want and the queen of Chaos fears! The Jaguar Goddess, Ylon, Ylanda- and the kidnapper! The only question left is _what the symbol means!_" Inar looked over at Numair, whose head could see be seen in the crowd as he weaved his way to the exit.

"So we're going to find out now?" he asked, voice intense. Deryne smiled.

"No- I'm going to meet Malvyn now." Inar's brow furrowed. The confusion on his face made her smile wider. "Han is taking us to find the elusive pair."

"Why would you want to do that _now_?" he demanded.

"They said they were leaving," Han replied, head turning the moment his name was mentioned. "Speed would be good-" He scanned the room, then pointed. "They're at the door now!" Deryne whipped around to face the entrance; a brown-haired young man was exiting, followed by Rikash.

"I'd recognize that blond mop anywhere," she muttered to herself, then followed Han as he took off through the crowd. The moment the three youths were out in the passageway, Han called out, ignoring the glares of several matrons leaving behind them. Deryne hid a smile as they rushed forwards.

"Malvyn! Rikash!" Han continued unabashedly. They rounded a corner, then took a right turn and walked around another corridor. Deryne scowled.

"Were they planning on _leaving _you?" she demanded, determined to tell Rikash exactly what she thought of that.

"I'm staying here with Master Salmalin. We were going to talk," Han answered. "Rikash!"

"What?" came a reply from around the next corner. Deryne rolled her eyes.

"Charming as ever," she grumbled. Inar chuckled softly. Then they rounded the corner and stopped; Rikash was heading towards them. He stopped, surprised, as he saw Deryne and Inar. Then he smiled.

"Hi-" Deryne's eyes flickered to the youth behind him- Malvyn, presumably- who had not moved. Tall, brown-haired- Her eyes narrowed. "I was wondering where you were," Rikash continued as he reached them. Ignoring him, the squire passed her friend without a moment's pause and walked over towards his companion, who waited quietly with a smug smile on his face. "Deryne-?"

_Gudruna _slid through her, giving her an image of his face and clothes, more perfectly than her eyes could in the dim torchlight.

She gasped. Then she raised a hand and made a cutting motion to the side; a gust ripped towards Malvyn and slammed him to the wall. Shaking, she strode up to him, jaw clenched, as he chuckled. Rikash swore.

"What in the Seven Worlds is wrong with you?" he demanded as he, Han, and Inar all hurried over to the pair. Deryne locked gazes with Malvyn, eyes blazing.

"Hello, Deryne," he said softly, lips curling into a smirk. Then Rikash grabbed her arm, trying to tug her away.

"Deryne-" She jerked her arm out of his grasp violently, turning on him with a cold mask of fury. She spat out the next few words, poison in her mouth.

"I didn't know you were on such good terms with my kidnapper."

* * *

AN: And now you will have to wait. Sorry. ;D Reviews do inspire me to write faster though- I wasn't even going to do this chapter this week... and then reviews were good... Sorry- I had this on Sunday but my beta was busy... ;D


	36. Chapter 35: Complications

_HERE I AM!! Yay... and I do love this chappie... and due to my wicked sense of humor, the chapter title is Complications... because there are several. Of all varieties. ;D_

_Thanks now to my readers and especially my reviewers- I can PROMISE this wouldn't have gotten so far without your input and encouragement: **dares to dream**, **Cymru na Alethaira**, **Dreamwings**, **twilightm00n**, **SarahE7191**, **PurpleBookWorm**, **Lemondropxxx**, **Evil Strawberry**, **Shang Leopard**, and **Eternityfalls**. And yay for my beta, **KyrieofAccender**, on whom depends whether or not I post on weekends... No pressure, Kyr. ;p_

_And so, without further ado:_

* * *

_Chapter 35_

_Complications_

_January 14, 481 H.E._

Rikash blinked; with a searing last glare, Deryne turned back to Malvyn.

"How did you do it?" she spat. "You could have been his son… and then I saw _that._" As she spoke, Deryne grabbed her prisoner's wrist and wretched his hand to her face for inspection; his ring gleamed sinisterly in the light. "Four signs. Since that day, I've never seen a ring or symbol like it-" Rikash sputtered into action.

"You said he was middle-aged!" he yelped. "Were you drinking with Sir Myles, 'cause-"

"Shut up," the girl growled through gritted teeth; yes, her _gudruna _were picking up the visible features of the mage before her, but she was beginning to sense subtle differences beneath them. A spell. "I can't believe nobody felt it," she hissed. "Not even Numair-" Malvyn raised a cold eyebrow.

"No mage- even one in charge of the Crown's security- pays the slightest attention to an age-changing spell," he replied, remarkably composed for someone pinned to a wall by no tangible means. "Especially one that makes a man- or woman- younger. There are many in court who use them, all the time. Since the differences are marginal, it takes close scrutiny to pick up on the glamour." He smiled back at Deryne, who hardly knew what to do; what _could_ she do to him? She wanted to hit him, but then he would have won in his own gods-cursed little way. "All I had to do was stay out of your way- until the right time."

"What right time?" Inar demanded, voice sharp. Deryne's gaze did not move from Malvyn's face. The man sighed.

"Would you let me down?" he requested, piercing blue eyes searching Deryne's. "As extraordinary as it is, this spell _is _discomforting." Deryne stared back at him. "No, then?"

"I don't think you should be going anywhere until you explain," Inar retorted coldly; Deryne felt a rush of savage exaltation. She would not need to say anything- Inar was on her side.

"You've been at the University this _whole time_," Rikash said incredulously. "Under an illusion? _Why?_" His voice was curious, not hostile. Deryne ground her teeth together. Good friend he was. Malvyn sighed again, then looked upward.

"The coterie I belong to is an order. A society, as it were." His fingers- one of which displayed the ring- struggled feebly against the binding Deryne had forced upon him. "This is our symbol." Deryne's eyes narrowed.

"What's Blayce have to do with it?" she demanded; she needed to know _where _Thom's notes were! The Lioness had locked them away with good reason. Malvyn's cool façade dropped; confusion darkened his eyes as he gazed at Deryne, as though attempting to divine answers from her.

"Who?" Deryne eyed him, gauging his reaction. He seemed genuinely puzzled… even curious. She sighed and glanced back at Inar, who shrugged. Rikash was staring at his friend, open-mouthed.

"That's why you never let me come!" he exclaimed. "It wasn't a storytelling, intellectual group! A cult, or, or-" Malvyn snorted.

"Cult? Who do you take me for, Salmalin?" he queried, slipping back into his controlling demeanor. Deryne felt lost; why kidnap her, then stay at the University for a few years, playing student mage with Rikash, and then reveal himself? "Our order was founded with the purpose of finding the Chosen of the Four." Four! There was that blasted number again! Deryne's eyes flew open as the words fell from the mage's mouth; she slackened her grip on the binding, and Malvyn slumped to the floor again with a groan.

"That's much-" Deryne scowled; she had not released him for his own comfort!

"_Explain_," she ordered darkly, pointing a finger at him. "_Now_."

"Feisty little girl," he muttered to himself from his seat as he looked up and grinned at Rikash. "You're scared of her, aren't you?" Deryne glared.

"The Chosen? Who are the Four?" she demanded. Malvyn raised an eyebrow at her, then seemed to think better of what he had been planning to say. His face became more serious; his jaw set.

"The Four Gods," he said carefully. "Frejonak, Yama, Wavewalker, and Gaian. They bestow a gift to their Chosen- the Chosen are marked with unique magics." His blue eyes bore into Deryne; a chill ran down her back.

"Magics like _gudruna_?" she asked cautiously. Malvyn shrugged.

"Wind whispers? Is that the term you're using?" he asked, scorn shading his tone. Deryne flicked her fingers warningly; a swirl of pale blue magic danced around them. "Yes." Deryne chanced a look back at Rikash, who seemed on the verge of a revelation.

"And fire that flies out of control?" she prompted. Rikash looked up at her, eyes wide with surprise.

"Yes- although the blessing in that is the power, not the poor control." Malvyn was looking up at the ceiling when she turned back to him. "There are certain spells the Guild has, spells that will detect the presence of such magics. When one was set off, my palace ears followed the gossip leading back to the son of the black robe Salmalin, which made perfect sense." He shrugged. "Usually, the Gods Choose those already suited for their gifts- You would have been an extraordinarily powerful mage, even if Yama had not marked you as hers," he said, eyes flickering over to Rikash before they went back to Deryne. He smiled. "And through watching _him_, we found you- much trickier and better hidden than his explosions. When we were almost certain, we tested you-"

"The kidnapping," Deryne muttered, shaking her head in disgust. Malvyn laughed.

"And then was I _shocked _to find that both the catch _and _the bait passed the test! Rikash to you, you to the Hetnim girl! You just led me from one to the other!" he gloated.

"Cyne," Deryne stated, trying to grasp the enormity of the explanations that rushed forth from the mage. He nodded.

"And me," Han said, finally speaking. Deryne started; she had _completely _forgotten about the other youth! She frowned; how had he jumped to that conclusion? "You and Rikash just... _found _me." Malvyn smirked.

"And you," he finished. "Rikash, you never realized that you were being _guided _to him. It seems the gods have their own ways of forcing their Chosen together," he added. "Find one, and you find them all…." Deryne bit her lip in thought; her eyes narrowed.

"So you found us," she said slowly. "Now what? _Why _does your Guild want to find us?" Malvyn shrugged.

"It is the purpose of the Guild," he replied. "Find the Chosen and help you attain your destiny." Deryne raised her eyebrows; she would deal with _that _statement in a moment.

"So there are _four_ of us?" Malvyn shrugged.

"Perhaps there are more- we know very little. But there are four in a... set, I suppose you might call it. You come in groups of four." Han took a few steps forward to Deryne's side.

"But you know our 'destiny' and want to help us with it." Deryne smiled dryly at the dubious words; it seemed Han wasn't as benign and dull a bumpkin as she had suspected. Malvyn grimaced and looked down at the hem of Deryne's gown.

"No- many of our secrets have been lost over the millennia that we have waited for the Chosen. We know only that we help you find it. That we are to guide you." Deryne sneered.

"Does it look like we need help?" she demanded. "You're _still _on the floor, recovering from my spell." Malvyn looked up sharply, face devoid of emotion. Without breaking gazes with her, he stood, body uncoiling like that of a bored snake.

"Only because I was comfortable there," he replied, blue eyes locked on pale gray. "I am a powerful guardian, Queenscove, even if I cannot tell you anything about your future." Something flickered through his mind before his thoughts snapped shut to Deryne; the whiff was enough to make her uneasy.

"You're lying," she accused. "You know something, don't you?" Before she could force it out, Rikash stepped forwards, first to her side, then between her and Malvyn. She glared at the tall, blond young man. "Get out of my way, Ri."

"No," Rikash retorted, jaw set. "You've bothered him enough for a night. He's here to _help _us- he _knows _about our powers!"

"Only a little more than I already found out," Deryne retorted sharply, jabbing a finger at the youth. "What sort of spells are you cooking up? What _trouble _have you been causing that you need to keep Inar out of the loop?"

"Inar is welcome anytime," Malvyn answered, sounding innocently surprised. Deryne glowered at him. "Come tomorrow- we're performing the gate spell. Same time, as always." Deryne looked from the other squire- who nodded in assent- to Malvyn again and then to Rikash. "He _kidnapped _me!" Rikash rolled his eyes.

"You were fine afterwards, weren't you?" Her jaw dropped.

"He _left _us at the mercy of _Stormwings_!" she retorted, outraged. Han took a quiet, quick step away from the pair out of the line of fire, joining Inar to watch from a safe distance. Rikash snorted.

"And I saved you. He _knew _we'd be all right! Can't you have a little more faith?" Deryne laughed shortly.

"You're telling me to _believe _him on his word? Ri, I want to know what this deal is! Cyne was nearly killed in the Isles a few months ago for her magic!"

"Because she refused to use her power again, hmm?" Deryne gasped in fury; were they back to _this _again? She was tempted to tell him what the Islander had done- _that _would have cooled his arrogant temper quicker than the Emerald Ocean would snuff out a candle! But she did not dare speak of it, not with Malvyn watching them, his smirk playing across his lips once more.

"_No,_" she retorted steely. "And _he is not leaving! _Not until he tells me more!" Rikash leaned in with narrowed eyes.

"No matter what he tells you, you'll never trust him!" he burst out. Deryne shrugged; that _was _true. "So you're waiting for his mental defenses to go down, so _you _can start pulling thoughts from his head!" Her face flushed; a few _gudruna _wouldn't hurt any of them, on this occasion-

"Ri! He's lying about not knowing anything!" the girl exploded. Rikash sneered.

"And you know that because you've already snatched something from his mind?" Deryne gritted her teeth.

"It was an _accident,_" she retorted hotly. "And the thought was _so _important, his defense slipped and _there it was, in my head! _He was covering something up!" Rikash's amber eyes narrowed.

"I've known him much longer than you, Deryne," he said doggedly. "And I'm damned if I let _you _torment and invade my friend's mind!" Deryne took a step forwards, trying to get around the large mage; Rikash kept himself in between her and Malvyn. Then he jerked his head down the passageway. "Let's go, Malvyn. I'll talk with him more, Deryne- and we'll finish this some other time." Deryne clenched her fists as the two mages turned away from her; did he think they could just _walk _away after this?

"_Ri!_" How could he be so pig-headedly stubborn? And _stupid?! _Power coursed through her veins; a short, sudden wind rushed through the hall, whipping past everyone before the air went as still and heavy as in the calm before a storm. Malvyn kept walking, his pace quickening; Rikash stopped. "Do you _care_? At all?" she demanded.

Rikash turned around, face taunt.

"Not now, Deryne," he said darkly. "It would be a very bad idea, this close to the Festival." She answered the subtle threat by twiddling her fingers; her mind dropped all defenses to _gudruna_, absorbing all the thoughts she could stand_. _Unfortunately, all but Han had incredible barriers against her magic. Still, she could sense intent if she prodded Rikash's guard; she did not mind if he felt it. In this sort of mood, Rikash wasn't a very trustworthy mage. In fact, Deryne was sorry to know that he was very much the opposite.

"Deryne…." She silenced Inar with a sharp hand motion. Rikash's face was cold as he sketched out a rune in the air in front of him; tiny flames danced in the air between them.

"I can't believe you'd dare to provoke me, Deryne," he said sharply. "Do you remember what happened last time neither of us backed down?" Deryne scowled.

"That means one of us needs to, doesn't it?" Rikash nodded, wild, raw power dancing in his eyes as he took a few paces back.

"But it isn't going to be me." Anger and reason warred in Deryne's mind; fear and worry for both Rikash and herself fought back frustration and suspicions pitted against Malvyn. Someone put a hand on her shoulder: Inar.

"Just step down, Deryne," he murmured into her ear. "Just… let them go. What are they going to do tonight?" He put his other hand on her other shoulder as he leaned in, cheek touching her hair. "Malvyn won't suddenly make a break for it, not if he wants Rikash on his side. Maybe he's not lying- or he can help, at least. But don't fight. Not again." He was right. She inhaled softly and closed her eyes, allowing his words to wash over her. Before she closed her mind to the _gudruna_, she felt Rikash and Malvyn slip around the corner and away.

"Is she always this scary?" he heard Han ask Inar, who had not pulled away from her. There was a hint of laughter in the young man's voice. "Or is this just my lucky night?"

* * *

They had not left yet; Malvyn had insisted on stopping by Master Salmalin's chambers to write a quick note first. They had tried the black robe's study first, but found the man in there. They did not want to have to deal with _him _tonight. Instead, Malvyn was leaning over Rikash's mother's work desk, quill in hand.

"What are you writing?" Rikash asked, taking a step towards his friend. Malvyn bent over the parchment as he scribbled away. It was odd, thinking that his friend was really closer to his father's age than his, but it was easy enough to ignore; he retained the illusion of his younger self with ease. His muscles still trembled with energy; he could scarcely believed he had been able to control himself, pull himself from the brink of warring with Deryne again… it appeared to be unhealthy to see her even in small doses.

"Just telling Inar we aren't doing anything tomorrow- he doesn't need to come." Rikash's eyes narrowed; he could not read Malvyn's writing, but he could see the signature from where he stood. Without taking his eyes off of it, he spoke again.

"We aren't doing the Gate spell?"

"Of course we are." With a grin, Malvyn stood and folded up his note brusquely. "But he doesn't need to know." Rikash just watched his friend for a long moment; Deryne was being unfair about the abduction, which made sense to the mage as an excellent- and clever- test for Malvyn to perform, but it did not mean he wasn't careful.

"For Inar, hmm?"

"Yeah." Malvyn raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"No reason, really," Rikash retorted, struggling to keep his voice nonchalant. "Except that you wouldn't sign a note to Inar with a M above that symbol of your little guild." Malvyn shrugged.

"Why not?" he replied lazily. "I might as well, now." Amber eyes locked with blue; Rikash's narrowed.

"I don't believe you." Malvyn snorted, then smirked, shaking his head.

"Why would I lie?" he asked. "You're acting like your lovely little friend now." Wincing, Rikash flushed; it was true… and he knew that _she _had been acting ridiculous back there. "You know we don't want him interfering- especially since he seems a little too sympathetic with _Deryne_." The way he said her name made her sound tritely odious. Rikash glared at the other mage.

"Which is bad because…?" he prompted in a dangerously soft voice. Malvyn sighed.

"She's a little upset right now." He smiled a little. "C'mon- tell me she _doesn't _mess things up when she's angry." Silently, Rikash nodded; _that _was true…. "Will you let me go now, inquisitor?" Rikash rolled his eyes and looked off in the other direction.

"Just hurry up. I'll meet up with you by the gate in a few." Malvyn smiled, teeth gleaming as he headed out of the room.

Once he had shut the door behind the fire mage, Malvyn unfolded the paper and glanced down at it with a smirk.

"Didn't lie, did I?" he murmured to the tapestries before neatly tearing the parchment in half… into _two _letters. Then he strode off through the hall, only torches illuminating his path, his figure and its shadow casting darkness where he trod.

* * *

The three youths trekked back through the palace, none of them feeling any urge to return to the festivities. Halfway to Numair's study, Inar turned off to return to his rooms with a wave at Deryne, who felt her stomach sink in a vague disappointment.

"He's nice," Han commented after the squire rounded the corner, leaving the two of them alone. Deryne glanced at him, wary for any undercurrents in the words. Han continued walking, face smooth and devoid of any sarcasm, curiosity, or slyness. She smiled.

"Yes, he is," she agreed. They walked on in silence to Numair's study and peered inside.

"That's odd," Han said, stepping inside. "He's not here." Deryne frowned.

"Maybe he just stepped out?" she guessed. The young man shrugged, then made his way to a chair next to the desk.

"Would he mind if I sit here?" he asked, gesturing to the chair Deryne always sat in during her lessons. The girl shook her head. Han smiled, then bobbed his head once as he spoke. "Then I'll stay here and wait, if you want to look." Deryne smiled back.

"Thanks, Han; I will."

* * *

Daine sent Deryne halfway across the ballroom and back in search of the elusive mage. The woman frowned when Deryne reported there was no sign of him.

"I was sure-" She pursed her lips, then shrugged. "Ah well- I would wait in his study, Deryne; he always comes back eventually," she added dryly. "He _was _right here, though- and looking for you, too." Deryne sighed; it figured that he would find the symbol's meaning _after _she interrogated Malvyn. She left the party once more, mind churning.

There was a society, a group that was intended to "help the Chosen." An order founded thousands of years ago… and named the four of them the Chosen. They had been given power by the Gods. Was there some sort of divine power in each of them then, one that helped Cyne destroy the Jaguar Goddess?

But they were still mortals…. Numair or someone with the Sightwould have been able to tell by now if they were not…. Divine power would have destroyed a mortal, in fifteen years...

"Deryne! I found it!" Deryne sighed inwardly, turning to Numair with a wry face as he rushed towards the passage towards her.

"Don't suppose it's some cult symbol?" she asked dryly. The man chuckled, brandishing a piece of parchment in his hands. The familiar four signs were inked on it.

"Not exactly," he replied. "But extraordinarily old- in fact, I'm shocked I didn't see the meanings just by looking at them; it's rather primitive, once you know how to look at it." Deryne waited patiently; she had a whole night to wait before she went after Malvyn again…. She might as well tolerate her teacher's lecture. Numair's large finger tapped the circle on the far left. "Air." Deryne frowned as he touched the leaf shape on the bottom. "_Plantae. _In this case, translated loosely to earth. And the flame above it is fire, of course." Chills ran through her as he moved on to the fourth symbol, the three lines that poured from the junction of the flame and the leaf. "And-"

"Water," she said quietly. So whatever Malvyn had lied about, his little group _was _connected to the four of them, somehow…. Numair looked at her in surprise.

"Yes," he answered, waiting for an explanation. Deryne cleared her throat.

"Me, Ri, Cyne, and Han," she said quietly. Numair's eyes grew huge.

"But I thought you said your abductor wore it." She shrugged, not wanting to elaborate further now.

"The circle, flame, and lines were on those pieces of glass," she whispered. "A spell that the three of us did together." She could practically _see _Numair's mind turning over this sudden burst of information.

"I never- not to have thought about that," he mused, putting a hand to his chin as he stared down at them. "Together, they form the sign of a secret group- They are called the Guild, but their purposes are only hinted at." Deryne frowned; anything she could learn from someone besides Malvyn would help her decide whether or not he could be trusted. There still was the issue of that little red book, the one Blayce had copied Lord Thom's notes into… with the symbol of the Guild in gold. And Inar hadn't liked the sound of the spells that this Guild mage and Rikash had been trying….

"What did you find out?" Numair sighed, scratching his head.

"It's all very vague," he told her. "Something about summonings." Deryne's heart beat a little faster.

"Summonings?" The words sounded odd in her voice; it had a harsh echo, one that seemed incongruous and sharp in her throat. Numair's lips twisted in a grimace.

"A… _mild _form of necromancy," he explained. Coldness ran through Deryne; her verves stood on end, burning warningly.

"Necromancy?" she whispered, her hands tightening into fists.

"Not too serious," Numair said quickly. "Usually practiced by younger mages for a thrill- then abandoned-" _Younger mages… _Anything fascinatingly dangerous but "not too serious" fit the sort of thrill Rikash would explore as a "younger mage."

And if he started little bits of necromancy with Malvyn, who might or might not possess those notes from Lord Thom…. A passage from the notes surfaced in her memories.

_-if one can return to the body, then it only makes sense that anyone might be possessed._ _With the push from a great mage, any soul could take control of a body that was not theirs to begin with…it is possible with enough discipline and power to call up ghosts and spirits from the realms of Chaos, to do one's bidding and corrupt a living body of the necromancer's choice. _

Thom's words were reminding her of another day, when Irnai predicted her death. Her God- Frejonak!- had warned her.

_He comes, he who has worn his welcome in the mortal worlds. He who sucked life from so many… he who stole so much happiness from the world and cast it carelessly aside… He shall conquer again, lest you stand and fight. Unless you find him… _

_He who had worn his welcome in the mortal worlds. _She had given it little thought before… but now the words were clicking… thoughts connected with overwhelming force… It was obvious, now- how could she have not understood before? She was as much a fool as the Chamber had always told her.

Either Frejonak had meant someone not mortal… or dead.

* * *

Roger of Conte unfolded the note on his desk, then grinned and tossed it into the fire.

"I thought so," he hissed, watching the words as they shriveled in the flames.

_Take them. Midnight. _

The Duke smirked; Malvyn thought he had to contact his pet ghost with secret little notes. He should know better. Roger was stronger than ever, with that Gate spell tied to him… everyone who participated in that spell was bound to him now; he did not need letters to know the necromancer's intent.

From here, his path was clear.

* * *

"Not remarkable, really," Numair was saying as blood rushed to Deryne's head; her breathing roared in her ears. Deryne could think of no response for that; there was no way to explain her thoughts now. Whipping around, she sprinted down the hall, cursing the skirts she wore more fervently than ever. "Deryne! Wait-" She ignored the call; once she reached the door to the west wing corridors, she hauled it open, barely stopping and nearly falling over it as she ran. Her feet slammed against the floor; who to find first?

Her feet found the answer for her; a few moments later, she found herself at Inar's door. He answered on her second knock and, seeing her, raised an eyebrow.

"I know you love this time of year," he said dryly. "But it _is _close to midnight."

"We have to find Ri and Malvyn," she said hurriedly, grabbing him by the arm. Bewildered, Inar closed his door and let her tug him down the passageway. At least he was still fully-clothed…. "Malvyn's planning something." Inar frowned.

"Yeah- tomorrow night, I figure." Deryne stopped, turning around to face the young man, who smiled ruefully.

"They promised me I could lend a hand then with a spell," he explained. "But Malvyn left a note, saying they'd wait until I had convinced you we weren't doing anything wrong." Deryne snorted.

"Now I _know _I _really _don't trust him," she muttered. "He thought you'd fall for that?" Inar shrugged, glancing over at the tapestry on the wall. "he must have great faith in your persuasive abilities, in any case," she added under her breath. Then, as Inar blanched, she narrowed her eyes. "What?" He opened his mouth, then closed it and began walking again. A smile tugged at her lips. "What's this? Turning red, are we?"

"Never," Inar muttered, still avoiding her gaze. He glanced down at the bangle on his wrist. "I figured out how to do that gate spell on the bracelet for Rikash. See?" He held out his arm.

"What'd he say?" Deryne persisted with a grin in spite of herself. If he had not kidnapped her a few years earlier, she might have liked Malvyn a lot.

"You would _really _rather not know," Inar answered. Deryne eyed him for another moment, then shrugged.

"All right, then." Then she clenched her fists. "But if he's trying to do what I think he might be-" She shuddered. "There is no limit to the danger we're in." If she was trying to cause trouble, who would she raise from the realms of the dead?

The endless possibilities chilled her more than the icy January winds of the night.

* * *

"You _said _the Festival's the worst. It always is," Malvyn reminded Rikash as the pair looked down at the Gate on the floor. Rikash shrugged; after all that had happened, he was not sure if he wanted to do any of those Fate spells, especially with his eager friend. "Better to do this power spell _before _then, than in a few days when your magic will be spinning out of control."

"Why not tomorrow?" Rikash insisted.

"The sooner, the less chance you'll set me- or the room- on fire. I'd rather not suffer, if I can." He eyes glittered as he smiled dryly. Rikash hesitated. "Come on," Malvyn added impatiently. "_Before _midnight, will you?" The young mage rolled his eyes.

"Fine," he muttered, placing his hands down on the Gate. Malvyn grinned.

"Excellent," he said softly. "Maybe tonight, there'll be a need for a little extra power."

* * *

Deryne wiped the sweat off of her forehead with the back of her hand, feeling self-conscious as she walked next to Inar. Their steps were perfectly synchronized; it was easy to stay in line with him, when his loping stride was graceful and she could feel his weight shift from foot to foot in the same way that someone might hear her lover's heartbeat at night. The thought made her cheeks burn, even though the calm settled so comfortably around them kept her from becoming too flustered.

"Are you sure we shouldn't go?" she asked again, wanting to speak. Inar smiled, eyes sliding to meet hers.

"Rush out across the city now? No- they haven't done anything earth-shattering in the past few months."

"Malvyn had his secret identity a secret in the past few months," Deryne retorted dourly. "Until now." Inar chuckled.

"If it means anything… _I _doubt it. If he's trying to pick you off, he'll barricade you and Rikash in a room together with no wards on Yama's Festival." She snorted.

"He's much more controlled than he used to be. He's improving," she said softly, hard feelings melting with a burst of pride and happiness for her friend.

"Or Malvyn's changed up the spell," Inar said darkly. "I'd worry about what he's been channeling Rikash's strength into- I'll talk to Rikash and look at their Gates. And give him this." He tapped the bracelet. "I'm wearing it so I remember to give it to him. All he needs to do is put it on, and I can spell it so that it holds his magic back." Deryne smiled.

"It's a bit ostentatious for you," she remarked; while the carvings were manly enough for Rikash, it was too bright for Inar. He shrugged. "How 'bout _I _wear it? Then your dignity doesn't have to be compromised." His lips twitched; Deryne's heart fluttered.

"You sure? I mean, anyone can activate the spell, once someone's wearing it, so I wouldn't even need to be there, if you see him before I do." Deryne smiled back.

"Yeah- why not?"

"I can't say I feel this is your style, either," he admitted, tugging it off his wrist.

"At least I'm a girl- I can wear pretty gold," she pointed out, reaching out to take the jewelry from him. Instead of dropping it into her hand, Inar took a step closer and wrapped his fingers around her wrist as he slowly slid the bracelet over her fingers.

Deryne was so surprised- and distracted- that she didn't notice that her thumb stuck out, hindering the bracelet's path, until Inar cleared his throat.

"Um-" She laughed breathlessly with him, then shifted her fingers' positions into order to get the bangle on. She looked up; Inar's face was right in front of hers. His eyes bore into hers, his face as still as stone. She swallowed heavily, very aware that he had not dropped her wrist yet.

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she knew all she would need to do was pull away- shift, in any way- and he would, too.

So she leaned a little closer, trembling as she felt his breath on her lips.

In the distance, a bell tolled the midnight hour.

But Deryne scarcely heard it, because Inar's lips were suddenly on hers. A stifled gasp escaped her as he pulled her closer, lifted her hand to his shoulder and wrapped his arms around her.

A numbing bliss flooded through her as his mouth moved against hers; she felt as though she was floating, high above the winds and the _gudruna _they brought… too intense for the _gudruna_ to speak with her… because she did not need any magic to feel his kiss, or his hands on her back. Her fingers tangled in his hair as he pulled away, scarcely giving her the time to realize he had stopped before he leaned back in to caress her lips gently, letting the kiss build slowly this time, soothingly strong.

A few moments later, Deryne pulled back reluctantly, certain she would fall if Inar had not been holding her. As she sighed, he put his forehead against hers. She closed her eyes, just enjoying the contact.

"It's the dress, isn't it?" she muttered after a moment. "I _knew _it would complicate my night." Inar chuckled; her body shook as his chest vibrated with his laughter.

"Always something witty to say," he murmured, touching her cheek. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he rested her chin on her shoulder. "Witty, fiery squire. Clever, too-always causing problems-" He suddenly stopped; in his embrace, Deryne felt him tense. Pulling back slightly, she gave him a playful frown.

"What are you tormenting yourself with now-" The question froze in her throat as she saw the look on his face.

His lips pressed taut, Inar stared out into the space beyond them, behind her. His eyes seemed fixed on a point that was neither here nor there, endless, dark caverns that hid more than that which one would want to seek out. His grip on her tightened, then loosened as he released her. Fists clenched, he took a step back, still not looking at her.

"Run," he whispered hoarsely, shaking. "Deryne-" She turned to look behind her; there was nothing. Nobody. She frowned.

"What is it?" Then Inar cried out behind her; she began to twist back the other way, but strong hands grabbed her, one pinning her hands together while the other one covered her mouth. Deryne struggled, calling out to the breezes around her to fight her assaulter.

Nothing happened; something bound her magic, wrapped her in an intolerable silence, even once she lowered all barriers she kept on her magic- not even her subtler powers came to her aid, those that had once worked when Malvyn had chained her.

"Time to sleep, little one," a cold, cruel voice hissed in her ear. Deryne fought harder, almost managing to break free of the iron hold-

A flash of orange light streaked across her vision, and everything went black.

* * *

_AN: Dun-dun! ;D You know what I want, before the next chapter goes up... so please review!_


	37. Chapter 36: Return of the Duke

Thanks to all my reviewers! **Cymru na Alethaira**, **SarahE7191**, **Shang Leopard**, **dare to dream**, **feathersofbronze**, **PurpleBookWorm**, **Lemondropxxx**, **BACswimma**, **Eternityfalls**, and **Evilstrawberry**-you guys are great! And yay for the beta, **KyrieofAccender**, as usual! ;D

* * *

_Chapter 36_

_The Return of the Duke_

_January 19, 281 H.E._

Deryne sat up with a gasp; Inar sat by her side, watching her solemnly. She paid him no attention for the moment, trying to understand what was happening. A darkened room- uneven stone underneath her- a cavern? Underground?

"Where are we?" The shackles on her wrists were oddly familiar; she could not have said the day before that she remembered their weight from the day Malvyn had held her and Cyne prisoner, but they carried a resigned sense of déjà vu that made her stomach sink to her knees. "Inar?" When she looked at him, he glared out into the darkness.

"Guess," he said darkly. Bewildered, Deryne gazed around the chamber once more, allowing her eyes to adjust to the light, provided by several torches scattered around them. She stood, slowly, noting the iron pedestal that both of them were chained before she started, alarmed; there were people surrounding them, their figures barely discernable in the dark-

Instinctively, she clutched Inar's shoulder as she backed away, legs trembling weakly.

"Just statues," she heard him say dully, and she swallowed heavily before sinking back down to her knees.

"Statues?" she echoed uneasily, turning to her companion. He nodded silently, eyes evasive. She touched his chin, forcing him to look at her as she struggled to understand the workings of his mind. "Inar, I don't- I _can't _possibly know-"

"The Black Caverns," he said flatly. Deryne stared at him. "We're in the Black Caverns."

* * *

"So Deryne decided to abandon me for your study?" Cadel asked dryly when he saw Numair Salmalin the day after the ball in his knight master's honor. "Not that I blame her, sir, but she could have taken me with her." The black robe smiled. "How long did you two mages work on her little spells, anyway? She must have been up late." Numair shrugged.

"It wasn't late- but she dashed out like a Stormwing running from a bath," he replied, bemused. "Why?" Cadel smiled.

"Because she hasn't left her room yet today; she must have been sleeping soundly this morning," he added with a laugh. "I knocked and yelled at her door for a few minutes this morning. Sir Alan promised to point her in my direction whenever she decides to get up." The black robe was frowning now.

"That isn't like Deryne; she's an early riser, late night or no," the man observed. "She panicked a little last night… about necromancy." His brow furrowed; why would Deryne be so concerned about summonings? Why didn't she tell him what was going on? Did she know someone- a friend, one she refused to tattle on…?

Seeing the man's withdrawal, Cadel left Numair with a goodbye, muttering something about sparring.

No… the only University mage- and student mage it was sure to be- she knew was Rikash….

No… surely not…. _That _was more than a leaping bound to a farfetched conclusion…. Certainly not-

Spinning on his heel, the black robe mage headed towards the city gates, face grim.

* * *

The hairs of the back of her neck rose as Inar's words rushed through her mind. Her grip on his shoulder tightened.

"The-" Deryne could not speak; Inar reached up to envelop her hand in his own, firm and gentle hold squeezing her fingers comfortingly. "How?"

"An interesting question, dear," someone said; Deryne jumped. As she began to rise to her feet, Inar grabbed her and pulled her into him as they looked out, listening to the footsteps echoing across the cavern. Her teeth gritted together.

"Malvyn," she snarled, eyes straining to catch sight of any movement in the blackness. How she needed her _gudruna _now! "When I get my hands on you-"

"Except you aren't." He stepped out, dimly illuminated by the torch burning at his feet. His boots trampled the flame beneath them. She could not see his face, but she was certain he smiled. "Not when you haven't any little magics to help you. I wouldn't test you that way again, Queenscove- not now, when you've mastered all your little tricks. Thankfully, I know them all by now; it helps, to have a goddess on your side."

"I've got a god on mine," she retorted, fists clenched. Malvyn chuckled a little at that; he took another step towards the pair.

"Except that _you _are all the little tricks he has," he replied, voice malevolent. "_Everything _he had, invested in you- and now you're caught. He knew not to put all his eggs in one basket… but then again, he hardly had a choice, did he?" Deryne felt cold, colder than she had felt in her life. "But Her Majesty has thousands of baskets, doesn't she?" Deryne frowned.

"Why ask us?" she asked sharply as her mind whirled. _Her Majesty… a queen-_ Malvyn shook his head with a laugh.

"Shadows, for one," he continued, ignoring her question. Deryne stiffened.

"The Queen of Chaos?" she asked, voice hoarse. She felt Inar flinch; he held her hand so tightly it hurt. The Destroyer of Worlds, and he wanted to _help _her? "_Why?_"

"She is ever so much more crafty than your little gods," Malvyn answered, relish in his voice. "And can meddle so much more, too- she is part of the balance, the scales that tipped in her favor once the gods decided to betray their own and ruin the Old Ways." Deryne stared at him, mouth agape.

"How could a mortal be so _stupid_?" she demanded.

"We are the clever ones," he answered. "Those who sought out the Queen… and discovered the _reason _for you four." Inar leaned forwards, shifting his body so that he was between Deryne and their captor. Deryne's lips were dry as she spoke.

"What-"

"_Don't ask_," Inar snapped harshly. Malvyn laughed; his teeth gleamed like knives ready for the slaughter as he shook.

"_You_'re trying to protect _her_," he said at last. "Now, there is the jest of the millenia."

"Go away," Inar hissed.

"But the lady wants to know the point of her existence," Malvyn said, voice mockingly polite. "It isn't often that one can learn that, before her death- I think I should oblige." Deryne's fingers found purchase in the iron wrought pedestal; they wrapped around the cold metal that held her prisoner. "You were born to destroy the world; you and your three little friends." Deryne's head spun; her breathing rasped in her ears. "Four powers meant to sacrifice to One. To establish that One forever, and vanquish her enemies, once and for all." Malvyn came close enough for her to see his savage grin. "The power to kill gods," he whispered. "Put in four, feeble mortals so that the fastest hunter will triumph. Was there any doubt, what the outcome would be?" He pointed to the pedestal they were chained to. "Four sides, you see." Ignoring the sick churning in her stomach, Deryne spoke, feeling detached from the world around her; how could this be happening?

"So you're going to let Inar go. You have to, to have all four of us here." Inar's hold on her did not falter. Malvyn grinned.

"I will," he replied simply. "All in good time-" A wave of anger rose inside her at his smirking.

"Why did you even bring him into this?" she snapped. "Dragged him in just because he was with me-?"

"You shouldn't flatter yourself so much," Malvyn drawled, studying his fingernails. "He has his own part in this, you see." Her brow furrowed; questions she refused to ask came to the tip of her tongue. But Malvyn must have seen the confusion in her eyes, for he added with dark glee, "Let's perform another test, shall we?" Her first urge was to sneer at the man dangling lies and tales before her, but forboding stilled those thoughts when Inar released her. He stood, then stepped back from her, as far as his chains would allow. She watched him, feeling sick.

"Inar-?" she asked quietly as he glowered at Malvyn.

"Do it," he growled, pale eyes narrowed. "You scum-" The mage snorted.

"Why would I injure _you_, _Ferensfell?_" he queried, nasty laughter on the last words. He jerked a finger towards Deryne. "_She _isn't needed whole- better for her to be lying on the threshold of death, anyway-" Deryne had enough time to see alarm penetrate Inar's face before she was forced onto her back. Adrenaline pouring through her veins, she looked up, face to face with a Shadow. Where had _that _come from?!

She cried out in fear, swiping at it to no avail. Its forehead pulsed wildly; teeth rushed down towards her. She closed her eyes-

"_Stop!_" someone shouted. Why hadn't it killed her yet…? "_Get off her,_" the voice continued, dangerously low._ "_Now."

The weight on her chest disappeared; shaking, Deryne stared up at the ceiling, numb mind struggling through incoherent thoughts. It hadn't been Malvyn who called them off….

Then Inar was there, at her side. Roughly, he pulled her up into a fierce embrace. Weak from the sudden relief she felt, Deryne leaned on him, wrapping her arms around him as he kissed her hair.

"How sweet," Malvyn commented sardonically. "The squire in shining armor to the rescue." Deryne stiffened; Inar withdrew slightly, eyes down.

"You control them," she said, jaw dropping. "You- you're the Shadowmaster."

"Accidentally, of course," Malvyn added. "But, being who you are, Inar- it was impossible for you to resist the call of your Queen, when you came in here, curious about the little crystal that closed off all the Vents to Chaos in these caverns." Inar pushed Deryne behind him. "She lured you in, and forced you to release her creatures."

"No more my Queen than Deryne's," he retorted sharply. "Or yours. Do you think a lying demon will reward you, in the end?" Malvyn hummed a little under his breath.

"Are you done yet?" he queried. "I'm waiting for this clever girl to figure out the other little secret."

"Shut _up!_" Inar's eyes blazed. "I _hate _you! Both of you!" Deryne shook in Inar's arms, trying to ignore Malvyn's hateful words and puzzling them out at the same time.

If Inar was the Shadowmaster…

If he could protect her from them….

"If you can control them…?" she hesitated. Malvyn laughed harshly.

"See?" he gloated. "She doesn't need my help to see the obvious." Then he turned on her. "Then why aren't you both _free_?" he finished, half-singing. "Why am I not a Shadow's meal? It's not his deep _compassion._ If he knew that _that _little bracelet-" He pointed at Deryne's wrist; Rikash's present was still there. Suddenly understanding, Deryne struggled to yank it off, eyes wide with horror; magic buzzed through her, stinging her fingers; it was spelled to stay on. "-could bind your magic if it could bind Salmalin's, why didn't he point that out? Or even better, not let you wear it? For a protective sponsor and lover, he seems oddly forgetful." Deryne wasn't watching Malvyn, or the bracelet; she was trying to catch Inar's eye. The more she tried, the further he looked away.

"Inar?" she whispered. "Inar, what is it? I don't want to hear _him _say it, whatever it is. Tell me-" When he finally did speak, it was not to her; he shot a look at their captor.

"_Malvyn._" She could not understand the emotion behind the single word; fury, pain, pleading fear- She touched his face; this time, he would not turn.

"What about the nightmares?" Malvyn's voice dropped to a sickly sweet murmur. "They don't make sense, do they? Death and struggles… but you don't remember when most of them happened, do you?" Deryne gasped in fury.

"His family died that night!" she cried out. Malvyn smirked.

"They aren't the only ones," he retorted before turning back on Inar. "Who else disappeared? Who was _born _that night?" The agony in Inar's face made Deryne renew a fight for her magic; she screamed at it to come, dived deeper into her mind than ever. "You don't just dream about them, and the torture," Malvyn continued, laughter in his voice. "There are other nightmares, ones that don't make sense- a sword, a _cat_-" Tears coming to her eyes, Deryne lunged out of Inar's weakening hold and towards Malvyn. Her chains stopped her short of him.

"_Stop it!_" she shrieked. He ignored her.

"You don't just dream about me, and the spells we did on you," the cruel mage added. Deryne's eyes widened; Malvyn had _been _there? He had been part of that? How could Inar not have known? _She _had known from the moment she had seen the mage that he had been the enemy a few years before. "From the moment you met me, you distrusted me because a tiny part of you remembered; you just chose to ignore it. Those times are hard to relive, aren't they?" He cocked his head to once side. "It was for your own good, you know; you would have gone down _her _path, otherwise." He jerked his head at Deryne. "Frejonak withdrew his powers from you, then- you were a lost cause, and he _knew _it. So he forced them on a girl from Queenscove instead."

"What?" Deryne gasped.

"You've been saved from the losing side," Malvyn continued. "Even though, fool you are, you _insist on protecting her_. Give it up, _Ferensfell. _You haven't been _that one _since Stenum went after you on Blayce's orders."

Blayce. Blayce told his man to go after Inar. Blayce wanted Inar because Frejonak had blessed _him_. Blayce forced the god to give _her _the _gudruna_. Deryne's mind spun.

"You forced Frejonak to give his powers to someone else?" she echoed. "Because-?" Malvyn sighed.

"Well, we _had _been hoping Frejonak would not take away the power- that it would be too late for the god to invest his powers in another, that the magic would stick to Inar, and the Gods' cause would be lost before they even started. There is a very small margin of time," he added. "In which a soul can be imprinted upon. Changed. Since Frejonak had bestowed his powers, if timed correctly, we could corrupt his Chosen before he knew what had happened." Deryne's heart was in her throat. Corrupted? "And then, with both corruption and power, his soul would settle, and no one would be able to touch it again. We cut it so close as it was," he said softly. "It took quite a few Gates to work the spell. And you remember all of it, don't you?"

"You tortured me," Inar rasped, fists clenched. He looked off to the side when Deryne turned back to him. "Ripped me apart-"

"And put you back together again," Malvyn said, surveying the squire with satisfaction. "Better than ever. You should _thank _me. Never was there a better Merging."

Deryne's knees buckled from underneath her. _Merging…. _She fell to the ground, numb.

"Gods," she whispered, her realization hurling her against a wall, immovable no matter how hard she tried to dissuade herself.

Malvyn had performed a necromancy on her friend, years before she had ever known him. And now she was remembering, remembering more that she never should have ignored.

_"The ancients also believed in taking children and melding their souls with spirits of long dead heroes and scholars… in the hopes that the child would show the attributes and powers of the dead from the subtle possession spells." _A merge, between dead and living. The Guild was an ancient order, ones from the Old Days…. Irnai had foretold this, after all-

_He who sucked life from so many…. _And that left only one question.

"Who did you put in him?" she asked, voice wavering; she hated herself for accepting the nightmare… and for letting _him _know she had. Malvyn's smile was enough to make her vision blur, even before he spoke the dreaded name aloud.

"Duke Roger of Conte."

* * *

"Deryne! C'mon!" Cadel yelled at the door. "I wanted to actually _talk _with my cousin, y'know? Since I never get to see you?" Her damned kestrel was at it again, screeching at the potential intruder lurking outside. He looked down either side of the passageway, then eyed the keyhole. His Highness had taught him how to do these locks more than a year ago….

Then he shook his head; why would he want to _snoop _or bother her cousin if she wanted to ignore him, which was odd. Why would she want to be alone?

Maybe if she wanted to think. If she was angry.

Who had she spoken to last night? Who could she have _possibly _gotten into a fight with? Who could rub Deryne the wrong way enough to provoke fury instead of her usual sardonic brush-offs? Cadel scowled, then sighed. In midst ride he changed direction, making his way to the stables.

Because if he thought about that, he knew there was really only one answer.

* * *

Inar of Ferensfell… and Roger of Conte.

Her friend… and the worst traitor in Tortall's history.

"The reason," she heard Malvyn say in a lethally light voice. "-he cannot save you now… is the same reason he couldn't save his knight master then." Inar swore at him.

"What _sick _thing have you done to me?" he snarled.

"You've known for awhile, haven't you?" Malvyn asked conversationally. "Ever since you let Sir Clement fall, I'd guess?"

"I didn't let him fall!" His voice broke. Malvyn raised an eyebrow.

"Ah, but you did. Roger willed it so, didn't he?"

"He did, not me!" Exhaustion crept into the protest. Deryne could barely breathe.

"But he _is _you," Malvyn answered softly. Chills raced through Deryne. She could not look up; she kept her hands on the ground, trying to stop the spinning. "Both of you are entangled in that body, soul and mind. It makes sense, doesn't it? The odd moments of déjà vu, or the sense that you've forgotten something… do you want to know who Deryne reminds you of? She doesn't look anything like your sister; she was a pretty, lithe little woman- dark eyes and golden hair- Stenum kept her for awhile." Inar swore even louder. "Actually, there are two reasons. One is your own; you recognize the taste of Frejonak's magic, even though you had it for so little time. But she also reminds Roger of the fiery little girl who wanted to be a knight when _he _was at the palace. Of course, he didn't _know _that she was a girl, then- but it was a good enough reminder. Every time you saw her, you hid that jolt of surprise, didn't you? You forgot, after awhile…. And then _you _sponsored her, fell in love-" He broke off in his narration to chuckle sinisterly. "Now you know why I laugh, Queenscove." Then he cleared his throat. "So, if you're still wondering _how _you got here-"

"No," Deryne managed, but it was so quiet, she could barely hear it.

"Your _lover _suddenly realized what was going on, when Roger came to conquer him with a vengeance, a few moments after midnight, when I sent Rikash's stored power within that Gate to him." Dimly, she remembered the kiss the night before, and the midnight bell tolling- had that only been a few hours earlier? "He tried to warn you and failed- _he _hit you over the head himself." Deryne hated Malvyn, all of him- his words, his smirk as he savored each shock that passed over her face- "Of course, Roger let Inar return, just long enough for him to mull over all of this…. Shadowmaster _and _possessed." Prickling sensations racing through her heart and blood, Deryne shook her head.

"I-" She _could not _believe this- she _would not_-

"All along- every step of the way- Roger has been in his thoughts, whispering little thoughts and planting little ideas- making Rikash's bracelet was one of those, a way to master your capture without a hint of suspicion from either you _or _Inar. You played into his hands so well!" He sounded like a benevolent instructor, praising his student. Deryne wanted to vomit, rid herself of all the poison the mage dripped in her ear. "Yes, Inar- you and Roger are too closely linked now; you would not exist, but for him! Your connection with Deryne- do you truly think you would have volunteered to sponsor her, to talk to her, without that little impulse from him? You, the sullen, brooding giant from the north?" Silence. "And yet she seems to be the only thing that's holding you here. Just give up, boy. Let the master take control. Roger will do more for you- for us all- than you ever could."

"Inar," Deryne whispered, licking her lips. She shuddered as she inhaled a breath of clammy, stale air, watching her fingers splayed across the cold, hard stone beneath her. She did not know what she could say- but Malvyn was wrong. She couldn't love him, if he was only Roger of Conte, the calculating, evil Duke.

Or could she? Everyone had loved the Duke. Until he had shown his true colors….

But she didn't hate Inar now. She felt broken, stunned-

If only she could free her magic….

Could Inar do it? Could he release her, if he couldn't save them himself?

"First Han," Malvyn said aloud. "And when the Hetnim girl comes on her next visit, she'll seek out Rikash Salmalin, wondering where her friend is. And then we'll pull them in. You, Deryne, will be the instrument we use to bring about their demises- how does _that _feel?"

With every last ounce of strength she had, she lifted her face up to the squire.

"Inar…." This time, he looked at her.

But the moment their eyes connected, Deryne's heart fell. He smirked at her, kneeling slowly as he wriggled his fingers. Orange magic, not blue, sparkled at their tips.

"Sorry, darling," he hissed, gaze hard. Malvyn flicked his fingers, and the chains fell from Roger of Conte. "I'm afraid I'm here to stay."

* * *

AN: Shorter chapter than usual... but I HAD to cut it off there... ;D

Comments, anyone? Besides the utter cliche that Inar is Roger...? ;D


	38. Chapter 37: Sparring, Secrets, and Summo

AN: Look at all those reviews! I could get used to this... ;D

Thanks to my reviewers- **Shang Leopard**, **SarahE7191**, **dares to dream**, **Cymru na Alethaira**, **Lemondrop xxx**, **twilightm00n**, **Dreamwings**, **PurpleBookWorm**, **Evilstrawberry**, **BACswimma**, **BlackWidow12**, and my beta, **KyrieofAccender**. I am very demanding at times, I know... and you put up with me, anyway! ;D

* * *

_Chapter 37_

_Sparring, Secrets, and Summonings_

_January 20, 281 H.E. _

There were many people Rikash expected to come knocking that morning.

Which was why, when someone pounded on the dorm's door, he hauled himself up from his desk with a mixture of annoyance and trepidation.

Malvyn had done another disappearing act, which troubled him. Even though he liked to think of himself as a better friend and more sensible person than that, Deryne's suspicion and fury were preying on his mind.

But Malvyn disappeared quite a bit, relying on Rikash to cover the absence from the University's professors until he returned.

Still, would he dare to sneak out, just like always, now that all secrets were out?

Rikash knew that he himself would not, but Malvyn was another matter entirely. He always had been.

And besides, Malvyn preferred exiting through the window, which left both the usual and new possibilities of who was waiting outside in the hall. Foremost in his mind was Deryne. Second was his father; Deryne would have run straight to him to reveal Malvyn's identity. And if she told Numair Salmalin, it could be the Crown mages with a warrant, or the Lord Provost- Or maybe it was Han, or Inar, trying to be the peace-maker. And if it was unrelated to the incidents of the night before, either a teacher or eager fellow student could be waiting for a response. Rikash rolled his eyes as he pulled back the bolt and tugged the door open.

Deryne, Numair, Inar, Han, teacher or student-

Or Cadel of Brockmire.

Rikash raised an eyebrow, looking down at the well-built squire, who gave him a smile.

"Deryne sent _you_?" the mage student asked, perplexed. Cadel's brows knit together in confusion.

"No…?" He didn't know anything. Good. Rikash cleared his throat and stepped back to let his old friend into the room.

"Never mind," he said quickly, closing the door once Cadel entered. Then he went back to his desk, waving an arm around. "Just- sit anywhere. Except there," he said hastily when the youth went to sit on the chest at the end of Malvyn's bed. "He spells his things- especially when he's not in the room." With a wary glance at the spot, Cadel sat himself on Rikash's trunk instead. "What brings you here?"

"Deryne," was Cadel's prompt reply. Rikash froze in the action of picking up his quill.

"I… thought you said-"

"She didn't send me," Cadel clarified. "But I was wondering if _you _were the reason she hasn't left her room yet today and won't answer the door." Rikash opened his mouth to deny knowing anything, but the squire continued wryly, "And now that I _know _something's up between you two again, I want to know what."

"Damn," Rikash muttered to himself. Knightly busybodies- nuisances. "She started in on Malvyn, so I told her to back off." He continued his notes on the last Gate performed; Malvyn had made a diagram before he left, but he was adding in the shifts of power during the spell.

"Why would Deryne do that?" Cadel asked, voice easy. Rikash gritted his teeth;.

"She thought he was the one who kidnapped her."

"_What?_" He heard the squire leap to his feet and winced. Without looking up, he disclosed the details of the night before. When he finished, Cadel gave a low whistle and swore.

"And now your friend's gone?"

"He goes out a _lot_," Rikash retorted defensively. Cadel snorted.

"And you don't trust _Deryne_?"

"She invaded his mind," he retorted stubbornly. "That's wrong. And, even though she's never met him before or been here, she thinks he's got some small red book that-" In the action of rolling his eyes, Rikash froze. The echoed words were triggering a memory.

A small, red journal in the bottom of Malvyn's trunk.

One he had snatched out of Rikash's hands before he could open it.

He had forgotten….

Standing, Rikash kicked his chair over as he took two sharp strides to Malvyn's chest and knelt beside it. Gripping the lock, he hissed a few words under his breath, shattering the freezing charm. Cadel joined him, touching the lid of the chest gingerly.

"You need this lock undone?" he asked, yanking a few pieces of metal from his belt. Rikash nodded.

"He _does _have a book," he explained darkly as Cadel worked. "One he wouldn't let me read-" A moment later, the lock clicked open. Cadel grinned in satisfaction, but Rikash's sense picked up a tiny noise underneath his friend's triumphant laugh. A little _whirl _of a triggered spell-

He leapt up to his feet and fell over; frowning, Cadel looked over at him.

"What-" Rikash swore as he glanced down at his feet; a scaly, stone material covered his feet, and was spreading up his legs rapidly.

"Stone paralysis," he muttered, looking over at Cadel. "You, too." Cadel stared down in alarm as his legs stiffened. "It won't kill you, but it'll keep us here until he gets back-"

"But- can't you undo it?" Rikash took a deep breath; if this didn't work-

Closing his eyes, he summoned flame to his hands. He heard the squire yelp as he let the fire flash through and over his body, slamming into Malvyn's trap spell, breaking it with the sheer force of the fire that raced across his skin.

Free of the spell, he shook his head and looked down at the ashes around him.

"I liked that shirt," he muttered to himself before turning to his friend. "I'm sorry- my father's going to have to get you out- I can't do that to you without killing you." Cadel's smile was wry.

"I suppose I'll be stiff later," he quipped before frowning. The stone was creeping up his torso; it was getting harder for him to move around. "Rikash, Deryne's in danger." The words-simply stated- chilled Rikash to the bone, as much as they confused him. "She and Malvyn gone-"

"You think she's not in her room?" Rikash's mind scattered in panic; Malvyn wouldn't _kidnap _her again, even if he could- she was too strong- Cadel grimaced; the stone had reached his neck-

"Promise me you'll get her back?" Then the spell was complete; Cadel was silenced, reduced to a statue that stared imploringly at Rikash. Numbly, Rikash nodded.

"I promise-" The door slammed open; Numair strode in. Rikash was too exhausted to be surprised. The black robe mage's facial expressions went from concerned and puzzled to stunned and incredulous.

"Rikash, what in the Goddess's name-? A stone paralysis? Cadel? Experimenting is good, but what were you _thinking_?"

With a look at Cadel, Rikash reached into the mess of books and hauled out the one he was looking for.

"It wasn't me," he said dully as he gazed down at the book in his hands. Red, with the symbol of the Guild in gold. "It was a trap, on Malvyn's trunk." Numair sighed as he approached.

"I'll have to find the mage to undo this spell," he said grimly. "What were you doing in-" Rikash's ears stopped working then; his eyes scanned the first few sentences of the page he had opened to.

When he locked eyes with his father, he said only three words.

"I'm an idiot."

* * *

Without _gudruna_, there was no consolation or distraction from her torrent of thought. Deryne stared insensately at the pedestal she was chained to, determined to block out the wretched revelations that had been unveiled to her. Malvyn and- Roger- had gone to set up a barrier, in case "the Salmalin boy was clever enough to suspect foul play." She wasn't sure whether she wanted Rikash to realize the double-cross or not; maybe if he told his father, there was a chance….

But Malvyn had access to the Gate spell; he had been _storing _Rikash's power for himself, waiting for _this _moment. He must have had reason to be confident about a confrontation between him and Tortall's renowned mages. She wished she had the strength to rail against them, but she was frighteningly calm.

She had to get out.

Even better, she had to get the chains off of her.

Or the bracelet.

Her eyes fell back on the hateful band. Ignoring the sting it sent through her, the squire stuck her fingers between the metal and her wrist; was it her imagination, or had it shrunk around her arm? She yanked once and hissed in pain; the metal bit into her skin. Her chains rattled loudly as she tore her hand away, tears entering her eyes.

"Giving up would be easier." The curses on the tip of her tongue never left her; Deryne's mind went silent at the sound of _his _voice. It- more than the pain, or anything else- stopped all thought. But only for a moment.

"That's what you told _him_," Deryne said, voice wavering. She refused to look up, to acknowledge the ghost locked inside her friend. "And I don't believe you. Inar, fight him." Roger laughed, and chills raced through her.

"I am no weakling, to be pushed aside by a boy who has survived and rose in esteem through me alone." Deryne gritted her teeth.

"That isn't true- even if Inar wouldn't have come to talk to me, I would have spoken to him, eventually." The more she thought about it, the truer the statement became; she had never been someone to tolerate the sulking in the shadows. "He was taught by Master Salmalin with Rikash and me- I daresay we would have become friends fast."

"A Gift and aptitude he only had because of me," the mage retorted smugly.

"_No_," Deryne replied, as she realized the lie. A triumphant smile tugged at her lips as her mind wrapped itself incredulously over the words spilling from her mouth. "No- Malvyn said it himself- Rikash was Chosen because he already had the power and temper Yama needed. Frejonak Chose Inar… because he had the Gift, the strength- out of all the Gifted in the world-" Her crystal eyes raised themselves to meet the gaze of the former squire sneering before her. "He had the will to control _gudruna_," she continued doggedly, searching the callous, blue eyes. "_Before _you interfered. And if he could control _them_, he can keep a _parasite_ out of his mind-"

"Perhaps he did have the strength at one point," Roger conceded with a sniff. "But I have long taken over, girl." He sank back more into the shadows, to lean up against the statue of Mithros, an insolent arm draped on the Sun God's shield. "And Malvyn is hardly the most reliable source of information- he believes everything he's told, you know." Deryne raised an eyebrow, feeling more confident as he stepped back, as though she were gaining ground. Sparring word for word- that was better than fighting her own thoughts. She was used to this sort of battle. And if Roger hid in the shadow, it was easier to stare him down, and not see the face she had always associated with another.

"From what I've seen, it's the other way around," she retorted, thinking of Rikash. Roger snorted.

"He believed what we told him about his precious Guild- he and Blayce, both," he added. "The necromancer contacted the Queen of Chaos… and she sent me to prepare her way." His teeth glinted as he smiled. "And tell those fools that the destiny they are supposed to help you towards is death for the glory of Uuasoae." Deryne's brow furrowed.

"So it isn't?" she ventured cautiously. "The Guild is _supposed _to help us… but we aren't supposed to die here? The Guild shouldn't be doing this?" His broad shoulders shrugged.

"It doesn't matter, what was _intended_- but what will happen _now_."

"You've tricked Malvyn, just as you've done everyone else." Anger was beginning to build in her again. "And how did Uusasoe get her hands on you in the first place?" His maniacal chuckle sent her heart racing in fear.

"She took me… because the realms of the dead were closed to me, after that." He continued laughing. "The Black God should have chained me in the darkest pits of hell," he said with gleeful menace. "Instead he set me adrift… forever, he thought."

"Big mistake on his part," Deryne muttered, past caring about blasphemy. She hoped the gods _did _hear her! "So now you're her little cur. Are you her messenger boy, too?" she asked, sweetness coating her fury in biting derision.

"As a matter of fact," he said mildly. "I have the _honor _of delivering a _message _to the Gods in their mighty realms that will shake them from their high thrones. After you and your companions die," he added coolly. Deryne swallowed, forcing her voice to stay light.

"And will you have the courtesy to tell me what it is, since I will be unable to hear your speech?" she queried, trying to sound bored. Roger laughed raucously for a moment. Deryne waited, face trembling with the effort it took to remain pleasantly expressionless. At last, he sighed.

"If it weren't for your Gift, darling, I'd keep you," he said with a smirk as he walked back towards her. The girl could not help it; she blanched when she saw Inar's face. It was so easy to forget, to assign some terrible face to his hard voice when she could not see him.

"Well, thank the Gods for that," she retorted, but her levity was lost. She stared fixedly at the ground as she listened to his footsteps, drawing close. She could see his boots on the edge of her vision.

"Really?" he asked softly. "I was under a different impression-" He took another step; Deryne reacted. Lunging forwards, she kicked out, her foot snapping into his stomach. He doubled over, falling backwards and out of her reach. He groaned, then chuckled.

"You've come a long way from the page girl who fell over her own feet," he said, standing again. Deryne shook as he towered over her; she never thought that Inar would ever look so coldly at her. She did not duck when his hand swiped across her face; the force of the blow sent her reeling. There was the taint of a force spell in it; she fell to the ground with a sharp gasp.

"And you've come a long way from a hardened squire to a man who needs spells to hit a girl," she snapped back. He sighed.

"Manners, Queenscove. I know your father has none-" She groaned as another magical blow slammed into her stomach, knocking the breath from her. "-but I expect more of a lady."

"I'm as much a lady as you are honorable." A bark of laughter escaped him.

"Thank you, wretch." Then his voice turned hard. "We will trick your friends, the same way as you-" She refused to be intimidated, even as her heart sank.

"I doubt Rikash will be distracted by kisses at midnight," she drawled, but Roger ignored her.

"You _will _die. All four of you. But at least you won't be lonely. That's a comfort, isn't it?" He began to walk away, but Deryne was not finished.

"What _is_ our destiny, then? Since it isn't "for the glory" of your dear little queen?" He paused, and Deryne looked up at his still form. "Since you're so certain we're going to die, it shouldn't hurt to reveal some secrets to the doomed, right?" His silence egged her on. "Why are there Chosen?" she asked softly. "Why would _Frejonak _give me his power, if it was only meant to help his enemy?" There was another reason, one he was hiding from Malvyn- the _real _reason….

He had to know. She waited, heart in her throat.

It did not matter, unless, through some miracle, she was rescued… but she wanted to know. And if Numair Salmalin _did _find them- she did not allow that thought to continue; even that tidbit sent her hopes soaring to devastating heights.

"If I learned anything, from my relations with the Lioness," he said, voice intensely soft. In spite of her wish to stand defiantly, Deryne leaned towards him, ears straining to catch every word, every subtle inflection as they washed over her. "It is that the impossible does, on occasion, occur." He paused for a moment, allowing the words to settle over her. "And that, in case of such events, some things- even when your death _is _a certainty, and there is no chance of even the impossible rescue- are too important to be spoken aloud."

Deryne's fists clenched; her eyes narrowed.

"So you're saying that even if I was to die _now_, in this instant-" Roger began to walk away again, back into the shadows.

"Even then, it is too important to be _breathed _aloud," he said before his steps faded in the darkness, and silence prevailed.

* * *

"What's he up to?" Rikash asked urgently as Numair and Master Taraid studied the original Gate in the students' notes, their eyes narrowed. Taraid grunted.

"It could do it," he confirmed. Numair put a hand up to his temple, massaging it softly as he groaned. Rikash's heart skipped a beat.

"What?" he repeated. "What is it?" His father sighed.

"Your _friend _has made a portal between the Nether Realms- those of the gods, the dead, and Chaos- and the mortal," Taraid explained sharply. "A Summoning ritual." Numair was still holding his head, then pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes telling Rikash that the mage was lost in thought.

"He used _this _one…," the mage said slowly. "And where did you find the diagram for this one?" Rikash shrugged.

"There's one in the catacombs-" Numair's face went white. The man's dark eyes grew huge as he stared down at his son.

"You _did not_." Rikash winced. "Gods above- it-" Shock did not suit the black robe mage; both student and teacher mage glanced at each before looking back at Numair. When the man finally stopped his incoherent babble, he stared at his son, aghast. "The one in the catacombs… was guarded by seals… for a reason." Rikash felt his spine prickle. His lips curled into a faint frown.

"But… Inar… Inar said he just _found _it."

"Now we're bringing _Inar_ into this?" Numair asked bewilderedly. Taraid's eyes were narrowed.

"We'll need to speak to him, then," the mage said darkly. "There are strong, defensive spells there to keep people from going anywhere _near _it." Rikash glared at the University professor, disliking his accusatory tone.

"_Why?_" he demanded tartly. Numair sighed, exhausted and exasperated.

"Roger of Conte died on that Gate," he explained quietly. Rikash raised an eyebrow; _there _was an interesting bit of history. But history all the same- "A Gate that had ties to the living and the dead. When Alanna killed him…." He hesitated. "Jon told me- though never Alanna- that, in deep magic theory, there was the _possibility _that the Gate could be a portal for Roger, for someone powerful enough- and talented enough- in necromancy." Rikash's jaw dropped; Lord Thom had brought the Duke back in the first place… and, somehow, Malvyn had the mage's notes on that very spell. "He was killed by _her _sword, you see. If you know any of the legends about it-" Of course he did; the Lioness was Deryne's idol, and he knew those stories as well as she did, from all her years of ferreting out the tales and truths…. "A sword forged from two, one blade of dark magic and blood, created by the Duke himself, and the other of the Gods, pulled from the stones of Barony Olau's ruins by the Lioness. It killed _him _and saved _he_r; it embedded itself in that blackened Gate, and could not be removed by any means, magical or not." Coldness rushed through Rikash's veins; he could not speak. Numair surveyed his son gravely. "And… theoretically, it would take more power than any Gifted mage could conceive- could summon- in a decade." His stomach convulsed.

"But I _have _that," Rikash whispered hoarsely, finally seeing. "That power-"

"And all it needed was someone with the skill to raise the dead," Numair finished bitterly. "Tell me _everything _about this spell." Rikash closed his eyes, trying to remember. How could this be happening?!

"Malvyn had others participate in it- none so much as me," he added with a grimace. "The first time we did it with him-"

"We?"

"Inar and me." Numair frowned.

"How _did _Inar evade the wards?" he wondered aloud. Taraid scowled.

"I'll tell you how," the short man said sharply. "He broke 'em himself, plain and simple." Rikash's fists clenched. "Your boy's friends are trouble, Salmalin-"

"I had my own friend troubles in my youth," Numair said mildly, putting a hand on Rikash's shoulder as his son opened his mouth, eyes glittering hostilely. "It is possible he was curious, didn't know _why _the seals were there-"

"If he knew how to break them, he knew he wasn't supposed to be there," Taraid retorted gruffly. "He knew exactly how complex they were, and any lad smart enough to defeat those spells would know he wasn't supposed to be there for good reason." Numair's pleasant expression twisted into a grimace.

"We won't know until he talk to him," the man muttered. "We'll find him later- Rikash, where do you usually stand in the spell?" Rikash pointed, and his father nodded. "The draining position- and Malvyn stood here to manipulate?" He tapped another spot.

"Yes." The youth hesitated for a moment, then plunged on, "And the first time the three of us did it- the first time Malvyn did it, and added his own tweaks- Inar stood here." His finger landed on the center of the diagram. He flinched at Numair Salmalin's sharp intake of breath.

"_No!_" Taraid gasped. "What forces are they _playing _with?" Rikash felt sick; _now _what? Inar was a delinquent and spell-trespasser, Malvyn a necromancer-

"If these two Gates were tied together," Numair was muttering quickly to himself, tracing the outline of the circle once more. His fingers made quick motions, spelling out equations Rikash could not catch. "Markers there- and there- he added ticks to the outer rims?"

"And inner,' Taraid added lowly, tapping two other places. Numair traced the outer circles of the Gates, then slid his fingers from the small marks that referred to the changes Malvyn had made on the furthest ring to the spots Taraid mapped out. "Angles of fifty, would be-"

"Twenty and thirty eight, plus four and fifty and sixty eight taken from the total-" Taraid swore.

"One-eighty," they spat out in unison. Rikash remained silent, teetering between urges to ask for a less senseless explanation and keeping his words to himself; he had already made such a _huge _mess… did he truly want to know how bad it was?

"Perfect division between the two Gates," Numair hissed. "He connected them, the one here and the other in the catacombs, and distributed the spell evenly between them, which, according to the Theorem for Split Gates-" Rikash's mind was finding purchase once more; he knew this, the theorem... Taraid cut in, grim face contorted.

"Whatever variable is in one must be balanced out in the other," he said. Rikash nodded once, thinking. There had to be a balance struck between the two Gates, to contain the spell and perform it properly. Numair's brow furrowed.

"Which would mean for the spell to work, the sword, the balance of the original-"

"-would have to be balanced by equal power-" Taraid leaped back in.,

"-_and_ similar but opposite attributes-" Rikash rolled his eyes; obviously that was what it meant, but what did _that _mean?

"-and if the sword's defining trait was its portal to the dead and the Duke's possession-" Numair's eyes widened with horror as words spilled from his mouth.

"The Summoning, usually a temporary pathway for the dead to rise as ghosts, made from such a Gate, had a core centered around the Duke and the realms of the dead. And it was centered along two poles-_one_ pole locked Roger of Conte in _death_…." Blood drained from Rikash's face; _that _explanation made sense. _Too _much sense.

"And the other locking the Duke to _life_," Taraid finished, disgust and incredulity coating his words. "It's the only way the balance would- _could_- work." Rikash's head spun; impossible conclusions weaving themselves together.

"Oh no," he whispered. "No, no-"

* * *

"He's not here," Rikash said darkly, fists clenched as he stalked into the study and flopped down into a chair. Numair looked from King Roald to Master Harailt. "Han _said _he'd stay there- but there was a note, saying _Inar- _our missing, resident traitor-wanted to show him something." He had to be angry- he feared what he might be if he let down his guard… if he stopped his rage and looked closer….

"That settles it," the black robe said grimly. He bowed his head to Roald. "His Majesty, I request royal authority to seek out and arrest Inar of Ferensfell and Hadrian Malvyn." The king nodded, brow furrowed.

"Where are you looking first?" the ruler asked. Rikash gritted his teeth as he tore apart his memories, his conjectures of Malvyn- It wasn't as though he could help in any other way. Getting involved would surely only ruin everything _more. _Taraid blamed him; the man had glared when he had explained that he would be at the catacomb Gate, trying to clean up the _mess_.

"We have scryers working now," Numair replied, worry showing on his face. "We have now reason to believe that they have Deryne and Han captive, and that they are after Rikash and maybe Cyne Hetnim, of the Copper Isles. Their spymaster has already been notified."

It was a challenge… issued to him?

"How many of them are there?" Harailt asked.

"Rikash says he never found out just how large this "coterie" of Malvyn's was, but he wouldn't have made a move unless he believed he could stop _me_." Numair's voice chilled his son; it was not often that he felt the extent of his father's power. Roald frowned, tapping his chin.

"What _could _stop you?" he asked thoughtfully. As he glanced around shiftily, Rikash locked eyes with his father for the slightest moment before the moment disappeared; Numair Salmalin's eyes were dark, contemplative as he turned back to Roald.

"I suppose we'll find out-" A sharp rap on the door of the king's study silenced their conversation. Numair glanced at his son and jerked his head; sullenly, Rikash rose from his chair to answer it.

One of the scryers stood there, out of breathe.

"We found them."

* * *

Malvyn smirked as the barrier rose; flames soared over them as he and Roger watched, creating a burning dome over the night sky that sealed them inside the Caverns. The mage raised an eyebrow over at the blond youth, now the genius of sorcery reincarnated.

"You think they noticed?" Roger's smile was lazy, almost dreamy… and far more dangerous than Malvyn's cocky countenance could ever hint to be. His eyes were frozen wastelands as he raised a hand, savoring the power that flowed through the spell and into his body, rushing his senses. He shifted, flexing his formidable form with a casualness that left the air around him screaming.

"I hope so."

* * *

_AN: What are these tricky bastards up to this time? Guesses, anybody and everybody?_


	39. Chapter 38: The Day Before Midwinter

Okay- unfortunately, everybody- including myself- is going to have to wait until at least next week to find out what happens- my schedule's nuts right now, but thanks for your patience. Also, for your reviews. ;D **BlackWidow12**, **Lemondrop xxx**, **Shang Leopard**, **dares to dream**, **twilightm00n**, **SarahE7191**, **Cmyru na Alethaira**, **Eternityfalls**, **BACswimma**, **Cinnamon**, and **Evilstrawberry**- you guys are great. :D And, as usual, yay for my beta. :D

* * *

_Chapter 38_

_The Day Before Midwinter_

_January 21, 281 H.E._

The sun's cold afternoon rays beat down on the light snowfall from the night before; the forest reflected the dazzling, white light back into Rikash's eyes, leaving him even more irritable than he was in the first place.

A poor night's sleep and the incessant whispering and looks directed towards him left him close to breaking point; he kept remembering that today was the day he had to be most careful… and the situation was not helping.

Would the day before Midwinter _ever _be a normal one? Yama's Festival be damned- the day had painted a target on Deryne's back since the babbling seer's little prophecy! His lip curled downwards as his gaze strayed over the mounted force, riding to take one dead duke and his resurrecter into custody. Along with the fifteen mages detailed to assist his father- which seemed silly, when the black robe mage would have little trouble with two mages far beneath him- half a company of the King's Own rode in full armor, the shining metal playing even more havoc with Rikash's senses. Of course, the blinding flash of light was preferable to the flashes of eyes as they snuck looks at him; _they _certainly knew who it was they had to thank for _this _expedition.

"They're looking again," he muttered sullenly to his father. Numair did not look away from the trail; he had never been comfortable with riding, and they had been riding since early morning without stopping. Rikash, on the other hand, was his mother's son regarding horses, with the notable exception of his inability to turn into one.

"Perhaps you're imagining it?" his father suggested. Rikash's eyes narrowed.

"Come to think of it, I have been having plenty of hallucinations of late," he snapped. It was a harshly done, bitter comeback, but he did not care. "Like friends- I _thought _I had them, but oh!- look at what happened there!" Numair sighed heavily.

"Ri-"

"_No_," the youth said coldly, blinking furiously. That snow was incredibly bright-He kicked his horse into a slightly faster trot, keeping marginally ahead of his father. Numair allowed the subject to drop quietly.

* * *

Less than an hour later, they caught sight of a fiery wall, rising from the trees.

"That's where the caverns are," Numair muttered needlessly. Rikash watched the flames, dancing through the air, and swore to himself once more.

His mother and Sarra were waiting for them a little further ahead; last night, they had set off to scout out the situation. Daine greeted her husband with a kiss on the cheek as he dismounted. The Own's Commander came up as she reported. Still on his horse, Rikash stared up at the magical barrier fixedly, aware of his sister as she futilely tried to catch his eye.

"The wall covers the whole span, all entrances, to the caves," Daine said abruptly. "It's a spherical barrier- it goes through the ground, seals off _everything_, even if we could manage to penetrate underground with this half-frozen soil." Rikash grimaces. "And there are _no _animals living in the area," the woman continued grimly. She bit her lip.

"And those closest to here keep on talking about shadows and death," Sarra added. The Shadows. Of course they were still here. Was Malvyn the elusive Shadowmaster, too? Rikash couldn't see how they could be holding Deryne there if he was not….

Unless it was Roger, masquerading as orphaned squire Inar of Ferensfell.

"Whoever bothered to do this kept me and Dunlath in mind," Daine sighed.

"Which means that shattering it could be impossible," Numair said darkly, looking at his reinforcements. Rikash raised an eyebrow; fifteen of the strongest and smartest mages were waiting his command. Even a well-planned barrier backed by the strength of two mages- He flinched.

_Oh… _that's _why he's so dubious…. _Him. Rikash, and those Gates….

_But eventually, they'll run out of power…. _His eyes slid back up to the barrier; the flames looked more familiar than he cared to admit…. Numair's gaze fell on the waiting fighters, and he pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers. His eyes closed in thought for a long moment. Then he sighed and looked up.

"Let's go and knock, then," he suggested. "It seems we'll be cleaning out this nest of Shadows a little sooner than planned."

* * *

_BOOM! _A small shriek escaped Deryne's lips involuntarily; she leapt to her feet, heart pounding.

"That would be Salmalin's formal way of announcing his arrival," Roger drawled from his spot in the shadows, from where he watched Deryne. She glowered, even as hope rushed through her.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" she demanded tartly. Roger laughed.

"What? I don't have any bumbling men to command- no fools to instruct and inspire ruthlessness within…. Any instructions-" He tapped his head. "-I can to give to my legions through _this_, courtesy of your friend. This was a pleasant surprise; if he hadn't gone and won my Shadow soldiers over, I would have had to kill their master and extract their loyalty… a complicated process, and certainly one that would have aroused suspicion." He stood and began to wander aimlessly along the rim where light between darkness. "Master Samalin is a clever man. I wonder how long it will take him to figure out what has to be done." Deryne could see just enough to discern his smile. "Perhaps he knows already. He just needs time to admit it to himself."

* * *

Rikash's jaw set; he was determined not to cover his ears as he watched his father hurl another blast of power into the barrier.

_BOOM! _Some of the men's ears were bleeding; some of them leapt into the air, even though they had been expecting the crash. But Rikash was waiting for his father's pride to cave- for him to let his son power the spell he was so insistent on doing himself.

_He knows I'm stronger, _he thought, annoyed. _Malvyn said it himself- why else would he target _me _if he needed power for a spell? _

He rolled his eyes as they tried again; soon his father would be tapping into his opals. _That _would be stupid; how many Shadows would be pouring out of the Caverns when the barrier _did _fall?

After the third try, he made up his mind; with two long strides, he was at his father's side. This was wasting time; if they wanted something from Deryne and her magic, there was no telling how much time they had.

"Let me," he said sharply. Numair looked wearily into his son's blazing eyes and managed a tired smile.

"Sorry," he said quietly. Rikash was acutely aware of the curious stares of everyone waiting. Numair tilted his head in the direction of the barrier. "I _know _you know that they used your magic to create this; I'm afraid anything you do will just be ab-" He stopped abruptly, still watching Rikash.

"What?" Unease trickled through the youth as his father's eyes narrowed slightly in thought. Then Numair pointed at the barrier.

"Touch it," he commanded. Rikash raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not getting blasted across the woods for your entertainment," he retorted acidly. "Even if it would raise morale." Numair's mouth set in a disapproving frown.

"Summon your magic up." Shimmering, amber flame blasted to Rikash's hands without a thought on his part. "And go touch it. _Do not attack it._" Rikash rolled his eyes but reached his hand out.

"Fine, but-" The moment his fingers touched the barrier, he stopped talking. His palm melted into the spell; he could _feel _his magic, sensed the small ties that bound it to his enemies' will…. He leaned into the spell, a faint frown on his face. The barrier gave underneath his pressure like a soft mattress, letting him sink into it. His outstretched hand broke free of the spell, unharmed on the other side of the barrier. His body jolted; he almost fell through, but his father grabbed him, tugging him back just enough so that Rikash's arm remained in the barrier.

"Since your magic is part of it- you are one of the power-suppliers- it lets you through," Numair mused in a low voice. Rikash looked through the barrier; dimly, he thought he could make out the Caverns through the dancing flames. He took a step pushing his foot through; it gave like thick dough at his insistence. "Stop!" Instinct froze him in his tracks, cursing the parental authority Numair used. He glared at his father, who met Rikash's gaze imploringly. "With your help, we can unravel the spell," he said softly. "Your link-"

"-will let me get through and to Deryne," Rikash said sharply. "Do you think Malvyn and Roger can _stop _me?" Numair sucked in a harsh, annoyed breath.

"It's what they _want_, Rikash!" he hissed. "If they made the barrier weak in such a glaring, obvious way, it's because they _want _you over there, alone."

"Malvyn's always been overconfident," Rikash snapped back. "It's _my _power he's using, isn't it?"

"Power that isn't yours, once he's got it bound to him! We need to break the barrier together!" Rikash closed his eyes.

"Da, you know those spells take _hours_," he said softly. "And concentration and patience that you know I don't have. Not now." His fists clenched; a slow burning fire that had been churning inside of him for over a day began to come to his fingertips. "I've always preferred force to subtlety," he added, mouth twitching bitterly. "And this is one case where we need it." Numair released his son, face grim.

"There is a Gate- a reproduction of the one you used to invoke the dormant Roger in Inar- it needs to be altered to bind the duke's essence. And, for the barrier, there'll be a focus, or miniature, or-" Rikash raised a hand.

"I know, Da," he retorted hotly. "What do you think I've been doing these past few years? Using all my time to resurrect dead sorcerers?" Numair shook his head, as if lost for reassurances.

"I hope not, Ri," he answered wearily. "I truly do." Rikash's jaw clenched; his eyes narrowed minutely.

"Whatever," he spat. Then he shoved himself against the barrier. There was a jolt, and then he fell out on the other side, muscles trembling.

* * *

Frejonak shook his head mournfully. Next to him, Yama tossed her black hair, fists clenched.

"I can't say I like this, love," he said in his voice, its sound an echo of a thousand words. The chessboard stayed as their only window to the happenings; now, interference was beyond forbidden- it was impossible.

"This is your fault," she muttered. "It always _is_- when you cannot keep an eye on your little mortal." The god sighed, then traced along the empty spaces on the board.

"There's a chance," he said heavily, pointing to a black piece opposite them. "If _that _one-"

"Is thrown from the game?" Yama completed scornfully. "And just how likely is _that_, brother?"

* * *

"Oh," Roger said, his sudden word pleasantly accented. Deryne looked up warily. "I do believe the mage has figured it out."

* * *

Rikash went hastily through the narrow passageway, lighting his way with a line of fire that he had sent from one end to the other of the cave. He did not care about noise; either he was attacked, or he wasn't. They knew he was there; being quiet would not help his chances.

"Malvyn, you sodding-" He swore under his breath; for the first time all day, he let himself dwell on the injury and insults he had suffered through all day. "I'm tired, I'm sick of people staring at me,' he hissed. The fire in his hands grew brighter as he spoke. "And you've kidnapped my friend." If she wasn't another one of those hallucinations…. "_Again._" When he reached the mouth of the next cavern, he prepared himself for the underground city the Black Caverns was named for; although, now he remembered, they only had Inar's word of what lie ahead-

His eyes widened as he gazed up at the stairways and bridges that rose above him, stretching across a chasm of walls that reached up to the heavens… was he really that far down under the ground, that the ceiling was too high to see, even though cracks of ghostly light poured through from _somewhere_ to illuminate the empty city.

"_Malvyn!_" he shouted, chills running through him as his voice echoed against the hard stone. He turned his head, taking in the hundreds- thousands- of caves that led off into darkness. He glowered at the multitude before him.

This could take awhile.

* * *

"You know what this is called, Deryne?" Roger queried, still roaming the cavern's shadows.

"Keep going around- maybe you'll get dizzy," Deryne said, but without any real fire. It had been awhile since the last "knock" on the barrier. Had they given up? But he had said that Numair had figured "it" out…. And he seemed _pleased_.

"This is the circle of Gods, in the mortal realms," Roger continued. "And a portrayal of their continuous, inevitable win against Uusoae in this world. It's set in stone," he added wickedly, patting the statue of the Goddess fondly. "But the trouble with it," he added, moving on. Deryne turned; she didn't want him behind her, if she could help it. "-is that, if someone comes along and _changes _it, well- there goes _that _safeguard." He laughed. "And so, because the gods were so untrusting- even when the Old Ones made this for them- they insisted on protection against the Old Ones." He cleared his throat. "Your friend is in for a nasty shock when he comes around," he chuckled, and Deryne's breath caught.

"Rikash," she whispered, suddenly knowing why the "solution" to the barrier delighted Roger so much. "It's- gods, this is a trap." He shrugged.

"I already told you it was," he answered simply. He twiddled his fingers; orange flame raced around the circle of Gods, finally illuminating the entire cavern. Deryne's stomach clenched once more; Inar's face watched her with a chilling smile. The firelight's reflection gleamed in the smooth black stone around them. Deryne sucked in a breathe of air; now the stale air was almost too hot to bear.

"You _bastard_," she whispered listlessly. Then- in spite of her doubts regarding the deities above- she prayed Rikash would be all right.

* * *

Rikash crept through the dark hallway, every once in awhile calling out an insult, hoping to provoke whoever was watching him. He knew that someone was…

"Deryne? You here?" His voice bounced through the darkness and back towards him mockingly. "C'mon- where are you?"

"Maybe if you ask nicely, I'll try to remember where we put her," a voice replied. Rikash's fists clenched.

"Malvyn. Get your cowardly carcass out where I can hit it." Silence. Rikash continued on, faster this time.

"Maybe she's in the Shadow barracks," the mage continued sneeringly. "Or in their dining hole- it's quite a nice pit, you know." Rikash's strides grew longer and quicker until he was running. "Or maybe she's with Inar- he's quite fond of her. Do you want to know how he caught her unawares?"

There was a room ahead of him- the door was open.

Rikash burst in and took in his surroundings- an armory- with one sharp turn of his head; thirty feet in front of him, Malvyn was waiting, one foot in the door next to him. He smiled. As Rikash watched, the mage slipped through that door and closed it behind him. The youth heard a lock click.

Then the door _he _had entered through slammed shut behind him.

* * *

"Break the spell binding Inar and Roger," Numair said sharply into the speaking spell that connected him to Master Taraid in Corus. Behind him, several University mages were using a locator spell to detect the small crack undoubtedly left by Rikash's penetration. "Now." The other mage's voice crackled out of the ball of light.

"They are symbioses, Salmalin. Ferensfell has been shaped by Roger-" Taraid's words were disapproving. Numair swore lowly.

"I don't care!" he snapped. "Can it be done?" There was a pause.

"We might be able to work something out," came the reply.

* * *

Hairs rose on the back of Rikash's neck, a momentary warning.

Then there was an explosion- a rush of sound and light that seeped into the room through the walls themselves. He whirled around as he was bathed in white light; he closed his eyes and covered them, but the light was everywhere- he might as well have had glass eyelids. For a moment, he thought that was all; he was blinded for life, maybe, but that was it- His hopes rose as the brightness began to fade back into the dark walls.

Then the earth began to shake beneath his feet.

* * *

Han inspected the bracelet that Malvyn had spelled on him a few hours ago. Then he looked at the chain that held him in the dark little niche of the caverns. For the first time since Inar had knocked him out, he felt awake enough to think.

Inar was in league with Malvyn… which was too bad. Han had little else to go off of… the squire had not bothered to explain anything to his victim before attacking him… but he knew that he was not going to sit around chained. Not when he had left his village to _avoid _being locked up… or something worse.

The bracelet bound his Gift… but Malvyn must have been in a rush; he had forgotten that Han's Gift was not the only thing a captor had to worry about. The youth grinned at the metal hooks that bound his chains. He kicked the wall sharply, ignoring the splitting pain to his foot; rubble fell as the wall shook. Picking up one of the larger stones displaced by his kick, Han slammed it against the place where stone had been cut away to secure the chains. With the harsh sound of stone against stone, pieces of the wall went flying, managing to cut Han's hand in the process. He hissed softly in pain, and continued to chip away at the wall until, finally, the chains slid to the ground at his feet.

Now he was free to move around, if not work magic. It was disorientating, to be cut off from the ground beneath his feet… but he was better off now than a moment before.

Picking up the ends of the chains in his hands, Han lifted them off the ground to stifle the clatter, and crept out of the nook as stealthily as he could.

* * *

Instinctively, Rikash looked up and cried out before diving to the side. Less than a second later, a large chunk of the ceiling smashed into the ground where he had been and in front of the door he had entered through. Quickly, the youth recited the words for a shield charm, a barrier to protect himself from collapsing rock from above.

He felt the fire rush up through him, molding itself into the needed protection-

And then it _stopped. _Chills ran through the mage as another boulder crashed in front of him; sharp shards of rock soared into his defenseless body.

The room was magic-proofed. He swore, then gazed around his surroundings. Dust fell ominously from the ceiling, coating the racks of shields and weapons in black powder.

"Not fair," he muttered, mind running through spells that would do him no good. "I am _not _going to die by quake. Not now." He grabbed a shield and the first sword that came to reach- a heavy broadsword that he half-dragged across the floor- and ran for the other escape route, the door Malvyn had exited through, buckler over his head.

A large rock smacked the edge of the shield as the earth rumbled again; caught off-balance, Rikash nearly fell. A jolt raced through his arm and he dropped the small defense he had had, knees buckling before he lunged on to the door. He shoved on the handle desperately and gazed up at the ceiling anxiously; cracks were deepening, splitting up the ceiling into plates that were slowly beginning to fall-

The door was locked, and he was no lock pick. He had never needed anything besides brute force before-

That was it!

With one last prayer to the gods, Rikash summoned all his strength to lift the hefty blade he had bothered to bring along with him. Then he slammed it into the door's lock, falling through as the sword shattered the handle. He tumbled through the door as a huge cracking sound broke out from the room, feeling his Gift rush back to his fingertips; then an almighty crash and a few rocks that spewed outwards to berate Rikash for his close escape told him the ceiling had collapsed.

"Well done," Malvyn laughed. Rikash looked up; his friend was waiting for him a few feet ahead. His eyes narrowed as he rose to his feet.

"I had figured you'd be halfway across the caverns by now- you've saved me a chase," he said coldly. The mage shook his head.

"Rikash, Rikash," he sighed. "You overestimate yourself, as usual." He chuckled. "Thanks to this-" He nodded at the floor; Rikash's eyes widened. The floor beneath them was not the polished black of the Caverns; it was clear, a window and protective covering over the Gate engraved into the stone, several feet below. "The playing field has been leveled." He raised an eyebrow. "Care to find out how?"

Rikash hesitated; was this a distraction? Where was Deryne?

Where was _Han_, for that matter? Should he fight Malvyn there, or search for them?

His dilemma resolved itself when Malvyn attacked.

* * *

Inar wanted to close his eyes; he wanted to pull away, to hide, somewhere in the recesses of Roger's mind. Roger's, not his. But every time he tried to retreat, the unfeeling duke tweaked his consciousness smugly.

_You need to watch, _he explained pleasantly. The duke made sure that Deryne's pain and horror were foremost in his mind; he gleefully baited and mocked her in turns, dissecting her every word, every miniscule reaction, just for Inar.

_Look at her- trying to help _you_. Even after you kidnapped her. Sweet of her, don't you think?_

_Of course, that's only because she knows she is going to die unless _you _can save her… too bad it isn't. Going to happen, I mean. Do you remember what I told you, when your knight master died? When you killed him? _

I did not. I did not. The words repeated themselves in the squire's mind, but Roger swept them aside effortlessly; he was in charge now.

_And now you'll be able to watch her die, too. _Oh, he fought. He grappled for a foothold in Deryne's words, but Roger's confidence overwhelmed his weak attempts. He tried to find the strength he needed in her, and failed.

_Frejonak, if you hadn't abandoned me- _He wondered what it would be like, to have the power Deryne had-

_Soon you'll know, _Roger's voice whispered smugly. Chills raced through him. He thrust the thought away. _You had almost come to terms with Clement's death- in time, you will accept hers as necessary, too. _

_No. _He struggled, but there was a bond, too strong to break, between them. He could not tell where he ended, and where Roger began.

_We are alike. _Motives, ambitions, hopes and fears- he could not distinguish what was his.

His sisters. They were his. His fief- that was his, too. Frejonak's blessing-

_No longer yours, _Roger gloated. _Besides, your family and home- long gone, boy. Best to resign yourself to it; there's nothing of yours left that isn't mine. _

And Inar knew what this man was preparing to do- to Deryne, to Han and Rikash-

He knew what the Duke _had _done, how many he had killed, how many he had betrayed….

And he knew, as they careened towards the end of this madness, that there was no hope for any of them.

* * *

AN: I've got a lot of work to do... but who knows? Maybe oodles of reviews will make me super-writing/doing-homework woman... and speed up the process a little. ;D

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	40. Chapter 39: The First Challenge, The Fin

_AN: ARGH! FFN is IMPOSSIBLE!!!! I'm SO SORRY! This new format has COMPLETELY driven me nuts… Whenever I hit the stories tab, it directed me to my account page... Had to do this at the library... Thanks to all reviewers, new and old, (I wouldn't be surprised if you can't even remember reading this now…! So sorry- last chapter was a cliffy, too!) **ayameurahara1**, **SarahE7191**, **xxTunstall Chickxx**, **BlackWidow12**, **dares to dream**,**twilightm00n**, **Evilstrawberry**,** Lemondropxxx**, **Cymru na Alethaira**, **flinchymcflinchster**, **ShangLeopard**, **BACswimma**, **Kalianah**, **Alliekat1996**, **tuxie13**, and beta supreme, **KyrieofAccender**. This goes up as soon as support gets back to me.... I AM quite happy how the mage battle turned out, though... that was the last of a long, terrible list of reasons this took so long. My muse was failing me... and then came up with... well, you'll find out soon enough. :P  
_

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__Chapter 39_

_The First Challenge, The Final Moment  
_

Rikash recognized the formal blow flying his way; Malvyn was using the preliminary manners of a duel- how kind. The spell was an easy, cautious probe- the first challenge. He flicked a hand contemptuously to burn the blow to bits; a shield formed at his fingertips just as the attack slammed into it and shattered the thin, glowing wall. With a stunned gasp, Rikash flew backwards into the debris in the doorway he had just exited. His ankle twisted sharply as he fell; he sucked in a harsh, pained breath. Malvyn chuckled.

"See this, Salmalin?" he queried with a sneer, gesturing to the Gate beneath them. "It cancels out all Old Ones' magics- including your never-ending firepower." Shakily, Rikash rose, testing his ankle carefully. It stung when he put his weight on it, but he had had worse.

"That means you can't use my power, either," he snapped back, savage triumph burning in his voice. For this fight, at least, his power would not be used against him. Malvyn quirked an eyebrow.

"Perhaps…," he agreed. "But who is more accustomed to that limit, boy?" Rikash's fists clenched. "Any practice dueling _you_'ve ever done, you've been lazy. Relied on your power… because you assumed you would never be without it." Malvyn thrust two more quick probes in his opponent's direction; Rikash ducked the first and stifled the second with a quick incantation. His words were muddled, hastily-spoken and clumsy, and only softened the blow, which winded him. The older mage laughed. "Not used to the spells, are you? All you've ever had to do was blow up whatever spell was in the making- not so arrogant now, are you?" Rikash's mind raced through spells, struggling to think of those that he could work, those that took little concentration- he did not even know the limits of his power now! Lightening arched from Malvyn's fingertips, shooting towards the youth. Rikash leapt to the side, but was not able to dodge another magical blow; he was forced to the ground, sliding against the dry, hard glass beneath him. His palms burned with the force of the friction.

Rikash raised a hand to send his Gift snaking around the next bolt of power Malvyn sent towards him; the amber magic engulfed the red glimmer with little trouble, and Rikash breathed a sigh of relief as he pushed himself to his feet. Malvyn snorted.

"We haven't even begun, Salmalin. If I remember correctly, you've never even learned a standard shield spell." Rikash was knocked to the floor again; this time, he did not bother rising. "-which I find remarkably stupid, even for someone with such distinct advantages. Never paid any attention to anyone, did you? Too smart for them? Too special?" Panting, the young mage stared at the ground, and the Gate.

_Damned Gates- curse Inar to the filthy bowels of Chaos- _Inar. Inar had first taught him control. Malvyn waved his hand; arrows of glass flew towards Rikash, gleaming with lethal intent. Control. Mind discipline. Connections between objects. Fire to flower, flower to ribbon-

Wind wasn't normally his specialty; he hoped it was as easy as Deryne made it look-

His hand shot upwards and turned sharply; a sharp gust shot into the storm of glass and whipped it around sharply, in a small tornado. Rikash flicked his fingers; his magic released the glass and the shards whizzed back towards Malvyn, still imbued with his own magic. The mage shook his head, and the glass melted into thin air.

Heart pounding, Rikash sized up his one-time friend. Perhaps he could do this; he could connect things, magic them- and he had to have a great amount of power even without his usual strength, with his parents' magical blood running through his veins.

"Ready, Salmalin?" Malvyn smiled coldly, then clapped his hands together. "Good. _I_ haven't even started."

* * *

It _would_ have been easy to find his way out. If not for the band around his wrist that smothered his Gift, Han would have had a picture of the caverns in his mind, every nook and cranny, every place where the rock and earth curled around those pockets of stale air that wormed its way in from the surface.

But he didn't have that; he would be forced to wander around aimlessly until he found an exit or- more likely- some way to remove the band. Well, he wasn't completely aimless; the passage he walked through was tilted upwards. If it continued in the same direction, it had to reach the surface eventually… or become a dead end. Besides, he doubted that someone would have had the courtesy to light the way with torches stuck in brackets embedded into the rock walls if it wasn't important. At the very least, _someone _used it… which made the country boy suspect it led to outside.

Little trickles of water had made their way inside to cover the floor of the tunnel, keeping the path treacherously slippery; he had to watch his step and stifle small cries of surprise when his feet slid. Every so often, he came across a fork in the passage; he always followed the lit one and, when both had torches, he chose the one that led upwards.

At one of these turns, Han was distracted from his thoughts; he stiffened when a soft growl rumbled through the tunnel. He went perfectly still as another, louder growl replied. Han closed his eyes and strained his ears to listen to the scream of perfect silence; his heartbeat was so _loud… _but he managed to pick up the faintest whisper of movement coming from up ahead, from the path he had decided to take….

And whatever it was, it was getting closer.

Opening his eyes, he turned down the darker passage and ducked into another tunnel branching off of that one. His surroundings barely lit from the torch-lit path he had left, Han peered back the way he had come and forced himself to relax, to breathe quietly, as the soft growls grew louder. Back in the village, they had always been told as children to stay calm, silence the slightest sound whether they were hiding from bandits or wild animals. And these were beasts- huge, if the snarling noise was of any indication. In spite of his reasoning, his fingers trembled; his heart pounded furiously as he fixed his eyes on his small window of vision, preparing to keep any gasps of astonishment to himself.

And when the moment came, he hardly remembered his caution; it was a fierce, swift battle that his practicality barely won, but he could not keep his jaw from dropping as he saw them- enormous, black monsters, with forms that seemed to change before his eyes like images on a lake, distorted by the rippling water. Only their teeth were clearly defined- hard, bright razors that gleamed against their dark background. Han pulled back from the sight, judging his marginal motions with care before carrying them out, unnaturally afraid of one misstep or blunder on the uneven ground that could send him crashing down.

Several minutes later, the noises began to fade as the creatures-immortals, for certain- filtered downwards, back into the depths of the caverns. Han counted to sixty, five slow times. Then he edged back towards the passage, senses on alert. No sounds except for a distant rumble of echoes, ones that could have been miles away, for all he knew.

Taking one last look behind him, Han walked the way the immortals had come, up a more and more upward slope until old, crumbling stairs bulged out of the rock. The young man ascended them cautiously, keeping an eye on the yawning hole he climbed towards. There was a great deal of light there; was someone up there? More of the dark immortals?

Hardly daring to breathe, Han lowered himself against the stairs, crawling up the last few yards, his arms tensed to throw himself up and running back down the steps if there was need.

No one was there; no ambush lurked within the cave, as far as he could tell…. Only so many lights that it could have been day in the otherwise dark caverns.

But, as Han rose slowly, his eyes noticed another kind of light, one that resembled the sun's rays much more than the warm, dim glow of fire, coming from the other opening in the cave. It seemed like there was one grand cavern beyond; was he in he side of a chasm? Was that daylight- the outdoors- beyond? Han fervently hoped so as he dashed forwards, past the signs of habitations in the small cave to look out-

And sigh; he was _still _underground. From where he stood, another set of steps led to a main floor far below; at least one hundred threatening stairs awaited his descent. Han groaned; there were hundreds of caves built into the rock of the gigantic antechamber. Thousands of stairs.

He would have to get that band off if he was to escape this maze.

He turned back to inspect the cave he was in, which reminded him vaguely of Master Salmalin's study. He hazarded it was a mage workshop- Malvyn's or Inar's? It matter little. What _did_ matter was that in there, there had to be something that could set his Gift free.

The enchantment on the bracelet had to be a strong but delicately woven spell in order to hold back even the subtlest aspects of his magic. With any luck, exposure to power would shatter the spell's complexity, enough for his avalanche of a Gift to break loose.

And it seemed Malvyn- or Inar- already had a spell going- and unattended, too; on a table in one corner, a model of forests and caves lay inside a ball of fire-colored magic. The detailed model even went "underground" beneath the table, revealing a giant chasm under the woods.

_That's where I am, _Han realized, studying the miniscule holes in the walls of rock. _In one of those…. _He glanced over his shoulder, back at the staircase and the canyon he had stepped away from.

It was a very complete model- there was even a water system with a pitcher that seemed to replenish itself in order to continuously supply the life-like caverns with the water that trickled in and out. Beneath the model, a bowl close to overflowing collected the drips that ran off.

So Malvyn had encased the area for some reason- to keep Han from escaping?

If so, Han reasoned he would be killing two birds with one stone.

He watched the steady, ominous pulse of the sphere of magic guarding the caverns- both below and above the ground. Another complex, delicate spell, he decided, a ghost of a smile crossing his face.

"I wonder," he whispered. Then, careful not to touch the barrier with his skin, Han stuck the metal rim of the band to the spell.

The red-orange magic exploded, coating the bracelet in flames as though Han had put a bundle of straw into the fire instead of metal. The youth screamed in pain, wrenching his flaming hand away from the model, now bereft of its barrier, and shoved it in the bowl of water underneath the table. Steam blasted into his face as the flames were quenched, leaving behind a shaking, raw wrist free of magical bindings.

Shaking, Han breathed in and out, not daring to move his hand a fraction of an inch as he slowly turned his attention towards his Gift; the pain had distracted him from whatever release his magic had had, but there was no doubt that it had returned. The earth beneath him seemed to bend slightly, as though it tried to envelop him in its comforting embrace. He smiled ruefully at the soft, gentle waves of concern he sensed; who would ever believe that the earth was a friend? A mother, a guardian, worried over her child? He lay his unburned hand down on the cold stone, which seemed a touch warmer to him now. He tore his horrified gaze from his mangled hand, fighting the fantastic urge to gape at it _more_.

"I'm fine," he croaked, then closed his eyes. "Show me." His hand glowed so brightly, he saw it through his sealed eyelids. Then a rush of images: stairs, more stairs, the chasm, a way out-

He would know the way now; the ground beneath his feet would guide his footsteps now-

A cacophony of howls shattered his relief; leaping to his feet, Han knocked over the bowl, which went clattering across the floor as the earth gripped him, forcing his mind through rock and soil, several levels below.

The immortals. Han felt more than darkness, more than fear now- Now he felt their touch as they swept over the rocks, how the stone itself shrunk from their cold caress. Oblivion. Nothingness. Forever.

His eyes snapped open; with the very earth screaming for his flight, the youth took several faltering steps towards the top of the steps that descended into the underground canyon. Then he broke into a run.

* * *

Numair looked up sharply as a ripping shriek tore through the air; men cried out and horses rose onto their hind legs as the barrier flared up, then broke down the middle like a seam being yanked apart.

With a broadening grin, the black robe mage watched as the wall faded into the sky. Then he clapped his hands together.

"Good work," he whispered quietly before turning to the other mages by his sides. "Get ready." This was far from over.

* * *

Han ran faster than he had ever before in his life- even faster than when he fled his village- but his mortal speed was nothing compared to the flight of the Shadows, for that was what those immortals were. He felt it in every corner of his being, now that he and the earth were one again. That precious unity- stronger and even more cherished now that he had suffered without it- was why when he glanced back over his shoulder and saw the beasts pouring out of the cavern openings, throughout the chasm, weaving through the arcades of bridges built across, he was unconcerned.

Until he ran straight into one. _Right _into it.

Running through a Shadow was terrifying; it swallowed Han whole, blinded him- pressed down on his fragile, mortal body. He couldn't breathe-

His face twisted into a grimace; his fists clenched.

Then the earth _rose _around him, slamming into the Shadow and hurling it away from him. Gasping for air, Han collapsed and sucked in a harsh cry of renewed agony; he had fallen on his hands, and the skin he had burnt in order to be rid of the binding spell cracked open and stung as the open air invaded the cuts.

Then he shoved himself up, ignoring the burning pain, and kept running.

* * *

When had a duel become so hard? Rikash could still remember the ones in which he and Malvyn had engaged, both in class and as friendly competition. This was nothing like that; now he knew that Malvyn had been holding back, gauging _his _strength and restraining his. He remembered every time he had smirked at his opponent, bragged, shown off, even-

He was barely holding his own now, if he could call being thrown about the cavern like a rag "holding his own." Malvyn was enjoying himself; the moment he grew bored, he would end this. Or maybe he would just throw magic to the skies and use the blade resting in the scabbard on his belt to torment Rikash further….

The youth recalled now a small detail that had escaped him when Deryne had revealed the details of her kidnapping; the mage before him was a black robe. Someone equal to his father, in power and training.

Malvyn had told him that he, Rikash, was stronger than Numair Salmalin, which should have made him more than a match for any mage, even a black robe. But that was _with _his "Old Magic." Without it, he was in trouble. _Big _trouble.

Stalactites as big as Rikash was broke away from the ceiling and crashed down in front of him; he backed away hastily, nearly tripping, as they fell closer and closer to him, smashing the glass floor as they penetrated it.

Rikash raised a hand, and the stalactite tumbling from the ceiling towards his head flared into sudden flames and then turned into ash that rained down on his head. He coughed once, then looked up warily to eye Malvyn between the enormous, rock staves driven into the ground between them. They crumbled to dust before his eyes, leaving wide holes in the glass; then Malvyn stepped forwards again, hand outstretched with malevolent intent.

"_Obscuro,_" Rikash muttered, desperate for a moment's respite. A dark cloud swept around Malvyn, obscuring him from sight. Even though the spell would not penetrate his shield, the mage would be distracted for a few precious minutes Rikash needed. Wiping sweat from his forehead, the youth stared into the murky haze. What could he do? How could he end this? Burning Malvyn to a crisp sounded appealing, but he doubted he would, even if he could; they had been friends, hadn't they?

That had been Malvyn's plan all along. It had worked well. Rikash's eyes narrowed in fury as the dark cloud faded to reveal Malvyn's smug smile.

"Only someone stalling for time to live would try _that_," he drawled. Then he snapped a hand out; Rikash was thrown back to the floor by an invisible force that slithered around his body and ensnared him in an impossible tangle. He would not be able to strike out against Malvyn or this spell; the mage for ready for it. He was slammed into the floor once, twice. He grimaced.

_Focus…. _The pain in his side flared up as he hit the ground again, harder. Had he actually cracked the glass?

Yes- the holes from the stalactites had done their damage; now cracks spread across the dark glass, growing larger and spreading each time he was smashed into it.

They'd be playing on a Gate _and _shards of glass if it broke. Playing above such a spell was a horrible experience; Rikash cringed to think what would happen if he _touched _it-

Gates. Information flickered through his mind, from the years at the University, with Malvyn- creating Gates, enabling Gates-

And shutting them _down. _He took a deep, ragged breath before it was knocked out of his chest.

"You _useless _sap," Malvyn hissed, voice low and dark. "Arrogant, sniffling little mutt." He was coming closer. "Helpless now, you little fool. Couldn't even think to break the barrier and get your reinforcements before you came bellowing like a stuck cow after me. That's where a hot temper and small mind will get you- good and _dead_."

There were several feet of solid glass beneath him; it would take more than impact to break it all. More than his weight. Rikash gasped for air as Malvyn waved a hand and his victim rose, high above the floor, above the other mage's head, towards the cave's ceiling. Rikash was directly above the Gate now, right above the glass that had began to crack like ice on a lake.

This was it. It was pointless to attack Malvyn or the binding, _but.... _Shaking with the effort, Rikash summoned his Gift- every strand he could gather- and eyed the nearest gap made by the falling rock. When Malvyn dropped him, he would land on top of it-

He felt the spell binding him release his body; he was falling, falling- The Gate grew larger and larger as he dropped towards it, the mouth of a giant, ready to swallow him whole-

His hands glowed with heat and light as he thrust them out and they connected with the glass-

He turned his face away, into his shoulder, as his wrists snapped sharply, as the glass splinters bit his palms and the floor broke underneath him-

With the last ounce of mind and power he had, he spread his fingers, outstretched towards the Gate and solid rock into which he was about to crash, and whispered one hoarse word.

"_Finite._"

* * *

One avalanche slowed the Shadows down, but sharpened rocks propelled their way was what killed them. Once Han had figured this out, he had sent a blinding hail at his pursuers before slipping into one of hundreds of caves and allowing the rock to seal off the entrance that had long ago been carved from it.

Giving himself a moment to catch his breath, Han sent out his Gift again, frowning faintly. He recognized the tastes the stones thrust at him; he would have had to be a fool to not.

Rikash and Deryne.

They were nearby.

* * *

It was very quiet.

Rikash lifted his head; it spun with the effort, but he made himself sit up, in the midst of broken glass and the charred Gate around him, now useless. A shard bit into his thumb.

He moved his wrists gingerly; they were fine, considering that he had broken his fall with them. Sore, of course, but he did not think he had broken them.

He had to do something about the glass he sat in. Furrowing his brow, he gazed around at the daggered edges.

"_Trans-_" He stopped; he should not need a word for such a simple spell, not even if most of his Gift had been bound. _Had _been bound. By the Gate he had broken-

"Clever, Salmalin." Malvyn's voice was enough for the youth to rise, if clumsily. He was up to his ankles in glass as he considered his beaten body's condition- his wrists were all right... but his sides burned as though he had caught fire again from being thrown about- he probably had an internal injury, if the intense pain in his gut meant anything. He wobbled unsteadily on his twisted ankle, nearly falling on the uneven ground. "Break the Gate. Cleverer than I had suspected." The man stood perhaps ten feet away, in the pit Rikash had created with his desperate stunt. "But not cleverer than what I had planned for." Rikash's heart sunk as the blue eyes gleamed. "Cancels out Old Magic is what I told you?" He chuckled blackly. "This cavern doesn't need a _Gate _to do that," he said scornfully. "The walls themselves were enchanted by the Gods… to smother _all _magic." He gestured to the faint lines that had been spelled just moments before. "The _Gate _was used to _preserve_ the _Gift_…." Blood drained from Rikash's face; he knew what was coming- he was even _worse_ off now than before.

"So… neither of us can use _any _magic now," he croaked, sounding more like a dying, sick old man than the youth he was. He had _actually _thought he had made it…. That he had won. Malvyn laughed harshly as he yanked off his restrictive gambeson and hurled it to the glass-ridden floor.

"That's right, _mage_," he said. Then, in one fluid motion, he drew his sword.

* * *

The breaking of the barrier had surprised Roger, but he seemed unconcerned.

"Your friends may as well be beheaded chickens dashing about," he informed Deryne, whose breath caught. She wondered briefly how well the air circulated underground; was she running out of air? "All the good it will do you." He flicked a finger in her direction; the runes engraved on her cuff glowed a burning orange. "Do you want to know what that does?"

"No," Deryne muttered; she swore she heard another voice speak with hers…. She kept her eyes down. There was a long moment of silence.

"It… will send your magic directly to me," Roger said in a oddly strangled voice. Deryne could not help glancing up; the mage looked confused for a moment before his haughty air returned. "The moment I command." Deryne raised an eyebrow.

"The moment you kill me?" she asked, trying to sound off-hand; her voice broke halfway through the question. Roger smiled faintly, as though trying to give just as little disinterested attention to a young child as he could get away with.

"Yes." His eyes were faraway now, his thoughts directed inwards. Then he inhaled sharply; his eyes flashed. The sudden change of countenance- from macabre, distant unconcern to a mask of insane fury- sent ice through Deryne's blood. Though she knew it was futile, as he glared at her hatefully, determination setting his hard jaw, she whipped around to grab the chain that held her prisoner and yanked frantically, straining to free herself. When he put his thoughts into soft, deadly words, his blue eyes were clouded with dark malice. Deryne shuddered as they locked gazes, the trapped prey facing the blood-lusting hunter that crept near. "And that moment is _now_."

* * *

_AN: Reviews, please? I apologize A LOT and promise less of a wretched time interval this time... as long as ffn behaves..._


	41. Chapter 40: Let Him Stay

AN: And here it is- much quicker than the last update, I'm glad to say! FFN is behaving again- wonderful site! :D Thanks, readers and most especially reviewers- **Alliekate1996**, **dares to dream**, **SarahE7191**, **Eternityfalls**, **Shang Leopard**, **secret-scribbled-notebooks**, **BlackWidow12**, **Cymru na Alethaira**, **Evilstrawberry**, and beta **KyrieofAccender**, of course. :P

* * *

_Chapter 40_

_Let Him Stay_

Practicality warred with another urge- a link to the Salmalin youth and the Queenscove girl- within Han's mind as he stalled at a fork between two tunnels. One led out, the other back up into the maze of dark passageway and caverns. The earth tugged him to the right, to the escape. But still he stayed.

If he left the caves, he could find Master Numair; they could come back and help Rikash and Deryne…

But a small voice inside him protested that by then, it could be too late.

Both of them had powers, like his. Surely they were fine… escaping themselves, fighting off Shadows, perhaps-

But then again, they could be with Malvyn and Inar, which would account for the kidnapping duo's absence while Han escaped; maybe Rikash and Deryne had been tricked, like him- with those bracelets- and they hadn't had the chance to free themselves, like he had.

Besides, there was something about them… all Han knew was he felt closer to Deryne than any other stranger he had just met in his life, and Rikash was a friend; Rikash had picked him off of the _streets! _

_So had Malvyn, _he reasoned; were the _four _of them in on this together?

_No, _he decided, as Deryne's face surfaced in his thoughts. She seemed… solid. Solid ground. Someone he could trust. And Rikash was too hotheaded, too impulsive to engage in deception- he would give it away, if he tried. Han hoped.

So he went left.

* * *

Numair watched, open-mouthed, as a wave of black stormed out of the caves, rising from the trees to sweep towards them.

"We're going to need help," he muttered into his speaking-spell before hurling up his own barrier, between his people and the Shadows. It would be too much to keep them all out, but this would slow their progress; this spell would able let about fifty in at once.

So, if they managed between the approximately seventy of them to kill fifty shadows a second-

Numair grimaced; he was beginning to reconsider his decision that they _had _to have the barrier down…. He _had _reasoned that taking it down would allow the rest of them to help Rikash and Deryne, maybe Han… but, for the moment, the three would be on their own.

"What's taking that decompose spell so long?" he snapped at Taraid through the glowing globe in his hand. He shot a hand out as the wave of darkness broke over them; several of the immortals flying towards Sarra and Daine were blasted into pieces. He half-smiled when his wife turned her head towards him and rolled her eyes before shape shifting. The two Salmalin women made a formidable team… but that didn't mean he wasn't going to protect them when he could. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a hawk-Daine tear at the colored circle of a Shadow and swooped down in front of others, distracting them just long enough for a bear-Sarra to rip them apart with her giant claws.

"Almost done," Taraid's voice crackled back. Numair ducked as a monster shot towards him; as it arched back into the sky, he sent a small black fireball after it. He hoped the three inside the caverns could hold on just a little longer.

"Hurry it up," he ordered, then strode over towards a besieged group of knights.

* * *

"Your friends may as well be beheaded chickens dashing about." Deryne's breath hitched; her eyes shone in the torchlight. Inar could not define the emotion he saw in that gaze- despair, worry, defiance, and stubborn hope seemed to twist her face into a grimace that was all of those and more; what was she thinking? Did he really want to know? "All the good it will do you." She had to hate him…. Roger flicked a finger in her direction; the runes engraved on her cuff glowed a burning orange. Inar felt his stomach sink, even as a small smile danced across his lips. Roger's lips. _No- no, no, _no_. Not yet… not already- _"Do you want to know what that does?"

_No, _Inar whispered; his voice echoed meaninglessly in the hollows of his mind; Roger was in charge now. She did not look up; fleetingly, Inar remembered her as he had first seen her, eyes cast down, singled out unfairly. How he had wanted to put that right, to protect her from that _farce_- stand between her and adversaries, even then.

_How I manipulated you, _Roger laughed malevolently. _To convince you _that _was why you decided to sponsor her. _It _was_- it was the reason Inar had done it. Roger had just used it for his own means.

Inar felt his eyes flash, his muscles stiffen; Roger was hiding something from him in his- their- mind.

"It… will send your magic directly to me," Roger said, sounding strained. As Deryne looked up, gray-blue eyes shimmering with uncertainty, Inar remembered the time Deryne had fallen through a step- indeed, all the little accidents she had had that stopped and restarted his poor heart more times than he could count.

_Small curses, _Roger bragged, but his words were cautious; Inar could feel the watchful weight the mage put in them. _I cast them on her all the time- you never even noticed. _So it was _his _own fault then, each time, innocent and unknowing, when he had been the one to put her in trouble in the first place, he had started forward to her aid… to save her. That had not been Roger's instinct, had it?

_If she had died, there would be no way to gain Frejonak's power, _Roger answered, casual lightness emphasized in each inflection of his voice. But few of those had been life-threatening- _One never knows. Besides, it would make little sense if you were paranoid about legitimate dangers and laughed at other occasions. _The reply was sour, disgruntled. Unsatisfactory. Inar probed further, rubbing salt into this tiny cut in his tormentor's thick skin.

"The moment I command."

"The moment you kill me?" she asked; she was trying to hide her fear, but Roger smiled pitilessly- he knew bravado when he saw it. Inar saw it as bravery- a refusal to let this demon win completely. She was fierce, more fiery than one would think a charmer of zephyrs to be. But he had seen the storm behind her eyes, the forces she commanded- he had felt the howl of the north wind and the caress of the sea breezes in her kiss. He had felt as though the world had paused, caught up in a raging gale summoned by _her_, the world so flimsy and dull in comparison that it had just _stopped_. He had wanted it to, so that moment could go on forever… he had wanted more, wanted to shield her from everything.

If only he had known one of the dangers was himself. He felt Roger smile, a gloating thought taking form in their mind; he had the upper hand once more.

"Yes." But he hadn't, not when Inar had kissed Deryne- out of all the thoughts rushing through him, all the emotion pouring into his mind, none could have belonged to the despicable mage. _He _had kissed Deryne, and that had been his moment alone. Roger's composure cracked, stunning Inar as his thoughts turned sharp and hostile.

_Only because I willed it so! _Roger snapped. _Because _I _wanted it! _

But why would Roger have wanted that? There would have been other ways, ones that Inar would have fought against, if he had realized-

That was it. Something stirred inside the young spirit, a fire rekindled.

_I played on your emotions! That was all that damned kiss of yours was! _He felt adrenaline course through him, felt the sparks rise as the hairs on the back of his neck rose.

No; that was all the capture had been. Hope and triumph rushed through him, powerful enough to knock him into incoherent understanding. But there was no need to articulate- Inar saw it now; Roger _needed _to play on his emotions, in order to win. And Roger had "chosen" his plot because _Inar _had wanted to kiss Deryne. _He _had influenced Roger's plans; Roger had shaped his plans to fit around Inar- not the other way around! That was all _that- _Roger's almighty power, his incredible strength against Inar-was. The mage had even needed a boost of power- even though the timely distraction had probably helped defeat Inar's will- in order to win control for that decisive moment.

And _Inar _had let him stay. Roger had manipulated him in the past, yes, but into actions Inar went through for the sake of his friend. For Deryne. Not to harm her; to _protect _her. And the only reason Inar could think of for why Roger had done this, all of this work, was because Roger could not _force _Inar to do anything in a fair, outright fight. Which was what they had now: no concealment, no deceptions left. Roger inhaled sharply; his eyes flashed.

_You are part of me! _the mage snarled, taking a threatening step towards Deryne as she began to struggle against her chains once more. She whipped around, shaking as her gaze connected with Roger's. Inar's resolve hardened. Then Roger spat out the end of his small speech- he was finished with words.

Deryne's eyes were wide with terror as she shrunk back, as Roger lunged forwards, incantation on the tip of his tongue.

But Inar was not finished; not this time. Roger had gotten his way, but only by bending his ways, twisting motives around until Inar could not tell up from down or right from wrong. In these years hiding inside of him, the mage had had to hide, to change, in order to placate his host.

_Then, _the youth replied coldly. _I am as much a part of _you _as you are of _me_._

He clamped his jaw shut, then clenched his fists, willing the magic away.

_More, because this body is _mine_.

* * *

  
_

Malvyn flashed a smile of daggers that concerned Rikash little when compared to the blade the black robe hefted with expertise. His heart sank; had he ever touched a sword? Like his father, Rikash had believed he would never need one….

Malvyn, on the other hand, seemed well-trained, by the way he twirled his sword through the air, light flashing off its reflective edge. Rikash stepped backwards, cutting his leg on a jagged piece of glass behind him. Then he ripped off the bottom of his shirt and wrapped his hand in the cloth before picking up a long shard of glass. Malvyn smirked.

"What are you gonna do with that, boy?" It was true; there would be no way to block a blow with the fragile if sharp weapon. Still, it made the mage hesitate; if Rikash moved the right way, he could get in a lethal stab. The thought made the youth's stomach shrivel; he did not want to kill Malvyn. Even if Malvyn had no qualms about killing _him_.

"We can both see you're finished," his antagonizer stated calmly, beckoning with his free hand. "Come with me now." Rikash shook his head wordlessly, scanning the room. Where was the sword he had used to get into the room? "You be a fool not to; it will save us both a great deal of effort, and you a great amount of pain." Rikash managed a tight smile.

"Pain? I'm already in plenty as it is," he drawled. Gallows humor. He would die here; nobody was coming to help him. "I doubt I'll even notice a bit more." Then he saw it; a slight change in color, a variation of gleaming light, in the plain of glass. The sword he had used to open the door when he had first escaped the collapsing ceiling.

Without looking at Malvyn, he shot forwards, hissing in pain as his entire body protested, slowing him down…. His hand shot out and snatched the sword up; he whirled around to face Malvyn, who looked mildly startled as Rikash's shaking arms raised the blade. He snorted.

"Come now, Salmalin," he sighed. "I know as well as you do how much skill you have with a blade- _none_." He began to cross the distance between them; his younger opponent's heart pounded faster and faster.

"All the same, I feel better when I've got a pointy weapon, too, thanks- it evens the field a bit, doesn't it?" Rikash retorted; Mithros, he was starting to sound like _Deryne_. The thought strengthened him for a moment; in consternation, he rolled his eyes. But the sword was _heavy_. He needed two arms and even then, it was not light to carry. How would it feel when he began to spar…? He had to ignore his flimsy ankle, the wrenching pain in his gut- he would die, if he couldn't ignore it all.

Malvyn lunged; flinching, Rikash swung the sword wildly, managing to connect with the blow, but the force of it sent his blade glancing off; he barely kept it from flying out of his hands. Without wasting a moment, Malvyn punched him in the stomach.

Agony. His insides seemed to crumble under Malvyn's fist. Rikash wasn't even aware of falling to the floor, arms wrapped around his middle. Malvyn kicked his sword away, out of reach, rising in a cascade of shining glass that looked like the water droplets cresting the waves of the sea. Then he throw his own sword away and kicked Rikash. His boot connected with the young mage's chest, winding him.

Gasping for breath, Rikash gritted his teeth as Malvyn slammed his foot into his stomach.

How was he still alive?

Maybe he wasn't; perhaps this was the Black God's punishment, to be eternally beaten by his friend, for his idiocy.

Another kick. Why couldn't the mage just get it over with? Rikash felt no relief when the blows stopped; he curled up in a small ball, trying to fight the pain that burned through him. If only he could heal himself. But healing oneself was tricky in the first place, and fire had never made a good nurturer.

"Will you come now?" Malvyn breathed in his ear. Rikash did not move; he doubted he could. He lay there, praying the man would not attack again. He did not know how he could have survived the barrage of blows now that he had been granted a reprieve. Malvyn pulled away. "So be it. I'll roll you with the flat of my blade, the whole way, if I have do." Rikash's stomach twisted even more, if that were possible. He cracked his eyelids open; he could see Malvyn's legs, the blade leveled at him. The mage raised it above his head, then brought it down at lightening speed to slam into Rikash's side. The youth sucked in a harsh breath, fists clenched. "Get up!" He would- he would- his muscles stayed limp, where they were. He would-

Malvyn raised the blade again, eyes hard.

"Fool." Rikash closed his eyes as it came speeding down-

Then he started at the sound of metal on metal. His eyes flew open as Malvyn's head turned; a fist connected with the man's jaw, knocking him back. Rikash's eyes widened; now he was crazy-he had cracked. Still, he prayed the illusion stayed in place- it was much more pleasant than reality.

"I agree," Han said calmly, stepping in between Rikash and Malvyn, standing straight and tall. "Anybody that beat up probably made some kind of mistake. But it was more foolish of you, Malvyn, not to chain me up properly." He watched Malvyn with wide, alert eyes, Rikash's discarded sword in his hands.

Hallucination or not, Rikash was glad to see him.

* * *

Roger stopped in mid stride; his eyes bulged. Deryne's nails bit into her palms as she stared, open-mouthed. The insanity left his face, but the intensity only grew. Despite the new rage she saw on his face, the girl suspected it was not directed at her. In spite of her wariness, she took a timid step forwards.

"Get out," the young man said in a dangerously low voice. "Or shut up, at least." Chills rushed through Deryne; was this some sort of trick? Was Roger trying to play with her emotions before he killed her? "I _am _stronger!" he snapped, as though she had denied it. "You're a murderer- and a dead one at that," he hissed coldly, and Deryne blinked. His face was growing more familiar once again- losing the hardness Roger had brought to it, but, at the same time, growing tougher. Stronger. Heart in her throat, she waited silently as Inar continued his silent conversation with the mage inside his head. _Gods, let him stay, _she pleaded, barely breathing. He hesitated for a long moment.

"No," he finally said, eyes narrowing. "I will _never_." A deep breath escaped Deryne. He stiffened and turned his head, off to the side. She knew him well enough to know he was looking at her, out of the corner of his eye. Futilely, she tried to meet his gaze, but she could not see his eyes, let alone stare into them.

A moment later, he whipped a hand through the air; her chains glowed hot for a moment, then fell to her feet.

"Get _out_," he said quietly, glaring at the statue of Mithros. Deryne frowned. "Come back with Master Salmalin- _then _we'll deal with this." She didn't move. "Deryne!" His voice broke, but he recovered. "I don't know how long this is going to last!"

"I've got more faith in you than that," she whispered, taking a step towards him. He was safe, she was safe-

They were safe. She could laugh; her mind sang a crescendo of harmonies that cried out her relief. She cleared her throat as her gaze slid back to the bracelet around her wrist.

"I need this off," she told Inar quietly. His lips curled into a small smirk that sent ice running through her blood before she could tell herself he was Inar again… not Roger. Had she really forgotten that fast? Suddenly, she was glad he refused to look directly at her. She was afraid of what she would see; not because he would be evil, but because she would remember him as evil. And she was afraid that he would see that.

"Don't you remember what happened when I put it on?" he asked dryly. "Surely we'd have another catastrophe." She raised an eyebrow.

"I see- you'd rather render me helpless." Somehow, her levity was not as reassuring as it usually was. She cleared her throat quietly, hoping he hadn't noticed. "Believe me, I'm more than a damsel in distress, even minus the magic." His teeth flashed again in a grin; Deryne shivered.

"I un-spelled it," he answered, raising a hand up to touch the Sun God's feet. "Just tug it off." His coolness sent another kind of shudder through her as she obeyed, then chucked the wretched band of metal as far as she could. It flew past the Goddess's head, clattering in the darkness. "Now out." Deryne took several haltering steps towards the cave's exit. "Rikash and Han are somewhere- Malvyn probably-"

Deryne shrieked; although there seemed to be nothing but air in front of her, she had crashed into something _very _solid, which sent a shock through her as the magic flared, then threw her back into the room. Barely missing the Wavewalker's pedestal, she slammed into the floor, just as Inar called out her name.

He was next to her in a moment, wrapped his arms around her.

"What is it?" she asked sharply, pulling _gudruna _from the air- gods, how she had missed those nuisances!- and cursed to herself. How could she have been so lazy, so clumsy, not to feel the barrier _before _she had crashed into it? Magical. A spell. Air went through it, but not without a little extra effort. Still, she should have noticed the pause in the air currents, even in the static, stale air of the caves- Inar swore quietly; in spite of everything, Deryne felt a thrill race through her at the sound of his soft voice in her ear. Then he stepped back, away from her. "Inar!" When she turned, he was wandering back over to the Sun God's likeness, his gaze determinedly fixed away from her.

"Roger spelled the cave," he said harshly, kicking the rock in front of him with a violent fervor. "And put a seal on it so I can't touch it. Nobody can. We can't leave until Malvyn gets here." Deryne cursed softly. Inar closed his eyes. "Of course, this barrier _is _still Roger's spell, and only his. And he didn't death-proof it-

"So if he was dead, the spell would end, and you'd be free to go."

* * *

Han ignored the nerves twisting his stomach, the feeling of dread and doubts hissing in his ear. He never used a sword, in all the fights he got into in the village- but without the swords, he was almost certain he would win. Malvyn was strong, but he wasn't a blacksmith's son or plower- and Han had fought those two and another pair with painful frequency during his childhood. He just needed to get the swords out of the way.

He was absolutely sure about one thing; it was a good thing that he had come, and that he had come when he had was even more important- Rikash could not have taken much more. The mage looked bad; Han allowed himself a small smile as he warily sized Malvyn up- he wasn't sure which one of them had the longer reach, and he wasn't about to act fancy to find out.

"Ah… the homeless farm boy,' Malvyn sneered. Han shrugged, careful to watch the blade, not be distracted by its gleam as the mage shook it tauntingly. "Smarter than you look, of course-otherwise you'd be dead. Your village drove you out, didn't they?" He shot forwards; Han countered the sharp attack with calculated, cautious but firm strokes. Malvyn disengaged and circled; Han turned with him. "The freak of nature- creating gardens in a day and moving mountains. Only the Gods should, eh? That what they told you?" Han nearly missed the attack this time; he lunged backwards, only barely fending off the upwards cut, only just managing to flick his wrist the other way to hit the blade away as hard as he could. Malvyn leapt back before the youth could retaliate. "You don't need to tell me- it was in your eyes, your words- it's a common enough story, but it happens less and less to the Gifted now." His feral grin spread across his face. "But just as much for the special ones… the evil ones. We only want to take that part of your Gift away, Han." Han stepped forwards, blade flashing. Malvyn parried it, then swung at Han's side. Han twisted his blade to catch the sword, then forced it the other way in a sweeping arc over both their heads with a grunt.

A scowl on his face, fire in his eyes, Malvyn lunged for Han's side again. His opponent retreated back a step, then came up behind him and, dropping his sword, pushed the mage towards the ground. Malvyn stumbled, but recovered and dived back towards Han, who was forced to retreat without his blade.

Weaponless, Han watched his kidnapper approach, grinning. His dark eyes fixed themselves on the sword as Malvyn whipped it through the air.

"_That _was foolish," he chuckled, fixing his grip on his hilt with an arrogant twist on his hand, at the same moment he glanced over at Rikash, several feet away.

_Now. _Seizing the miniculse window of time, Han dived at Malvyn. He saw the man's eyes widen as they caught the flicker of motion in their periphial vision… and he punched Malvyn's sword arm. The force sent Malvyn's arm snapping backwards, the sword tumbling from his grasp. With a swift kick, the youth sent Malvyn's sword flying towards Rikash.

"Get it," he commanded. Then Malvyn aimed a kick at his knee. When Han step sided it, he was put off balance; Malvyn managed to punch him in the stomach, but the hit was weak.

Malvyn was a mage and swordsman; not a street fighter, not a farm-boy brawler. Han grabbed the mage and hurled him to the ground, then kicked him over onto his back.

"Feeling better, Rikash?" he asked, putting his knee on Malvyn's back. Experience had taught him never to let a beaten opponent back up.

"Now that you've thrashed him, yeah," the other youth answered. Han did not look away from Malvyn, who seemed to realize the fight was over. He relaxed, stopped wriggling. Rikash inhaled sharply. "I dunno if I can get up and over there, where you-" Gaze scrutinizing the mage, Han waved a hand at Rikash. He heard a soft sigh of relief and surprise, and smiled. "I didn't know you were a healer." He heard his friend stand up.

"You'll need a real one after this." Rikash murmured an assent grimly; Han glanced away from his captive to see the young mage stiffly rummaging through the broken glass for the swords. He was amused to see that Rikash clearly had rarely even seen a swordsman, let alone touched a blade; the boy held it at an angle that was instinctively wrong even for him, the farm boy. The tree's son. "Let him up." Han stepped back a pace as Rikash stepped forward, pressing one blade into Han's outstretched palm. "Mithros, those are heavy- I can't say I know how you're able to wave that stick around like you do."

"Practice, Salmalin," Malvyn retorted savagely, sitting up in the glass. He was binding a cut on his wrist with the edge of his shirt. "And strength." Rikash's eyes narrowed; Han put a hand on his shoulder, in case he had to hold the injured mage back.

"Where's Deryne?" Han asked. Malvyn shrugged, then shied away as Rikash stuck his blade out.

"Liar. You were going to take me back to her and Inar when we were done here, weren't you?" he demanded, face distorted in fury.

"I can find her myself," Han said slowly, looking back and forth between Malvyn and Rikash. "I found _you_- but we need to get out of this cavern first. Out of the Un-Magic." Rikash's brow furrowed.

"How'd you know-"

"It says, above the entrance," Han answered smoothly. "And the rocks told me- they sensed your heat, and the Un-Magic, in the cavern, and told me before I entered."

"You and Deryne are terrifying," Rikash muttered. Han said nothing; he looked back down at Rikash, pleasant face striking a perfect, frightening contrast to the threatening rage on his companion's face.

"So we don't even need you," Han elaborated politely, staring back into Malvyn's blue eyes. The man deflated slightly. "And if you don't come _with _us…." He shrugged. "We can't have you causing trouble later." Malvyn's eyes narrowed, and Rikash smirked; they have him.

The mage stood, shaking glass shards off his clothes haughtily.

"This way," he muttered, taking a step towards the exit.

"_No_," Han said sharply. "Rikash will go first- we wouldn't want you to be the first one out with your Gift, would we?"

* * *

Deryne's eyes narrowed; waiting for an elaboration, she said nothing as Inar looked from one statue to another. Then he took several sharp steps towards the center of the room and the pedestal on it.

"Chaos vent," he muttered to her. Then his leg snapped out, and the metal-wrought stand fell over; revealing a small hole of wildly flashing colors. The ground near the hole cracked, widening the pit as Inar stepped back, watching as the lights grew, shooting into the air as they snapped at each other, fighting like starving beasts over a small scrap of food. Deryne shrank back from the center of the room as much as Roger's barrier let her. "This is where Roger first took control of me- with her help." Face hard, he gazed into the flames as a shadow rose from the tiny pit; Shadow-beasts struggled to escape the fires of Chaos, but the flames held them back, encircling them like a cage. An unbreakable glass pane.

Inar reached out; his fingers slid easily through the Chaos lights, and the Shadows slipped out into the free air of the cavern. Deryne shuddered, but her companion did not notice. The immortals curled around him, reminding Deryne of adoring cats for a small moment.

"Uuasoae never intended for _me _to hold this power," he said darkly, voice flat. "She and Roger had planned that _he _would be in control when she transferred the command of the Shadows to me. But he wasn't…." The colored lights played across his face as he glared downwards. "You messed up quite a bit, didn't you?"

Deryne's eyes grew huge as another shadow began to take shape within the veil, the window into Chaos. Chills raced through her blood as a face formed; she pressed herself against the barrier, in spite of the painful sting, as the ever-changing hands appeared before her. She barely suppressed a scream of horror as her nightmares- all of them- manifested themselves in a single image that seemed to take up the entire cavern, a body took up all her vision, no matter how hard she tried to hide.

"I _never _mess up, darling," the Queen of Chaos purred. "_Ever_."

* * *

_AN: Reviews, please?_


	42. Chapter 41: Pride and Temptation

_AN: Thanks to my reviewers- **Shang Leopard**, **xxTunstall Chickxx**, **dares to dream**, **SarahE7191**, **BlackWidow12**, **Alliekat1996**, **Evilstrawberry**, and my beta **KyrieofAccender**. Things are close to wrapping up... I do believe one more chapter and an epilogue will finish it off! Sad..._

_BUT... there will still be questions to answer. Which ones, I'm not at liberty to say at the moment. But they will be answered... because there is a sequel- one final story for my lovely group of characters, before I focus on my own work for awhile. And this one will incorporate all- Cyne, Brand, and Merle are coming back, too! More than that... I'll just have to wait to tell you!_

* * *

_Chapter 41_

_Pride and Temptation_

"There's a Gate into Chaos?" Rikash prompted harshly as he, Han, and Malvyn made their way towards Deryne and her captor. "A Vent?"

"_The_ Vent," Malvyn corrected sullenly. "And when He, Confidant of the Queen of All, spills your blood and takes the power of the Chosen as His Own, and becomes a God of the Old Time-"

"What happened to helping_ us_ reach our destiny?" Rikash snapped, long strides forcing the other two to hurry along to keep up.

"It _is _your destiny," Malvyn said shortly. "Blood and Shadows will bring the Four together, the Chosen shall be picked once more- gales from the north and water from the south, dust from the east and flames in the west- united as one-"

"Who'd you hear _that _from?" Rikash's face contorted in fury. "Roger?" Han's hold on Malvyn tightened as they began to climb another set of stairs.

"It is an abbreviated summary of the _Vakopoli_, tale of the Chosen- one of the few words of Truth left to us after all these years," the mage answered levelly. "You cannot best Roger of Conte, Salmalin."

"I'll do better than _best _him!" the youth snarled back, turning to glare back at his antagonizer. "I'll _blast _him back into Chaos!" Malvyn shook his head.

"You cannot kill him, _boy_," he said, malicious venom in his words.

"Rikash, leave it," Han advised quietly, clearly knowing that the plea was a hopeless cause. Rikash's fists were white with tension, his cut and bruised face pale with fury.

"Why's _that_?" he spat. As though unaware of the danger before him, Malvyn smiled, superiority dripping from his mocking form.

"Do you _really _think he didn't plan for this? The threat to Inar's body?" He smirked. "There is a spell."

"There's always a spell," Rikash retorted sharply. "Is it going to resurrect him again, then? I don't have a problem with blasting him until he stays dead-" A derisive laugh escaped their prisoner as he paused in his way up the steps. Han waited behind him, face stony.

"Don't you think he knows that, too, Salmalin?" Malvyn drawled. "And I know he does… because if Inar dies- if _anything _separates the two souls- the Duke will need another body. He's had the precautionary Gate up for some time now, just in case- rigged to send his spirit straight into a new host." He raised an eyebrow in challenge at the youth standing above him. "Can you guess who he would choose?"

Fleetingly, the frozen young man above his companions seemed posed before them, a conquering war god, a raging Mithros, the High Magistrate, prepared to pass judgment on the one beneath him and cast him into the furthest rings of dark Chaos.

Han involuntarily flinched when Rikash moved; his friend only pointed up the stairs, but his sharp gesture carried the weight of a dagger's slash. His amber eyes burned as he stared down at the doomed mage, who still just watched his condemner with a small smile.

"You are so scared," Malvyn finally whispered.

"_Move._" Han released the man and stepped back; if Rikash decided to smite the man on the spot, _he _didn't want to be in the way. Neither mages' posture nor expression changed; they watched each other steadily, even as Rikash's body began to shake.

"What happens if she's already dead, hmm?" Malvyn taunted. Rikash's jaw clenched. "You were the one who decided you were clever enough- strong enough- to handle me. Not that you even thought to believe your oldest friend." His laugh was a sinister rumble, filled with implications. "I _know _you- I know people, in general…." He broke out into a smile of cruel triumph as Rikash's glare faltered. "And your overconfidence- your _arrogance_- has hurt her before, hasn't it? And this time, it might have killed her," he gloated. Rikash's gaze fell to the rock steps.

"I could kill you. Right now," he whispered, but the venom in his words was drowned by despair. Malvyn raised an incredulous eyebrow, madness in his eyes.

"Do it- I dare you, Salmalin," he said, a little laugh in his words. Han backed as far away from the line of fire as he could. Rikash's fists glowed with his magic; his countenance hardened.

"_No_," he replied in a clipped, controlled voice. "I'm going to make you watch me win first."

Judgment passed, the High Magistrate stepped away, up through the darkness, as light exploded from his clenched hands.

* * *

She had dreamed of the Queen of Chaos; no, dream was not the right word- Uusoae had attacked her, the day Deryne looked into Irnai's mind… the day the _gudruna _seemed more alive than mindless whispers that were pulled into her thoughts, when she stood on the top of the Needle and allowed them unbarred access to her being.

Irnai had said it was because the Queen feared her. The Queen silenced the seer and the other Gods that could help Deryne and the other three Chosen, because only they- she and _her kind_- could show her what fear was. That was what Ylon had said….

But Deryne could see little evidence of that; the very sight of the goddess swept her mind up in a shrill terror, and Uusoae did not bother to send a glance in Deryne's direction; her eyes- no longer changing every moment- were for Inar alone.

"_You _picked me- you freed my creatures… and won our allegiance. Not _him_." Her lips curved derisively. "He was not strong enough, it seems." Then she sighed, face softening. "Abandoned child… unjust of Frejonak. He left you…." Her voice faded into a faint, echoing murmur. "Left you all alone… marked you to enemies, then disappeared without a trace, leaving you and your family to die… and then, all he can do is strip you f your last saving grace… selfish, aren't they? That's what they did to the Old Ones…."

"You're one of them," Inar replied, a crooked smile playing across his lips. Deryne's breath caught as he surveyed the goddess thoughtfully. "I'm not fooled by honey-coated lies and vows bound to be broken, Uusoae." Her name on his lips sent a tremor through Deryne.

"That's why I come with reason, brother," she replied affectionately, reaching out; her hand did not penetrate the edge of the multicolored barrier. "And truth." A bark of laughter escaped Inar; he took a step back.

"Truth? What do you know of it?" he asked bitterly. He did not wait for a response. "No. I am not here to be tempted, Your _Majesty_," he said, scorn shading his voice. "No- I am your only hope." She laughed a little at that.

"Not the only one," she chided, voice soothing enough to calm Deryne's pounding heart in spite of her distrust. "But one of few, yes- and dear. It was _me… _not Roger… in your mind, in the caverns." Inar's gaze shot back towards the goddess; his fists clenched as she smiled at him motherly. "I opened your _eyes_, Inar…. Made you more than you were again. I'm giving you _back _what Frejonak took." He opened his mouth, then shut it.

Deryne did not dare to speak.

"I don't want it." Inar looked back at the statue of Mithros.

"Ignore him." Uusoae waved a hand at her siblings' likenesses. "You're lying, Inar- it isn't good for you." The concern in her voice made Deryne's stomach churn; it sounded like she _cared_….

But she didn't. Uusoae just wanted Inar to believe it. Inar's lips pressed together tightly; he cast a look of guilt in Deryne's direction. Her heart sank.

"Fine, then." He locked eyes with the goddess once more. "I don't want it if it comes with the price that it does." Uusoae raised her eyebrows.

"You want the girl? You can raise her, once you have the power." She smiled dreamily. "Oh, you'll be able to do _anything_, Inar- raise her up again, if you wish, and your family, too." Inar's eyes narrowed; Deryne heard her breath rattle as she shook her head.

"I'm no fool, Deryne," he said, voice loud but gentle, ashamed but indignant, rebuking and reassuring. A soft sigh of relief slipped through her parted lips as he turned back to the Queen. "To Chaos, I am a only portal; the instrument you need to be brought into the mortal realms once more." He raised his hand and reached into the world of Chaos once more. "I go through…." Smiling, the trapped deity lifted her own hand- human, for once- but Inar pulled back before she could touch him. "And back again, as long as I have a foot in the mortal realms." His face hardened. "But I am of no use to you- nor any Chaos monster- when I stand with you in your kingdom."

"What?" Deryne whispered; Uusoae's eyes narrowed.

"You bluff," the goddess accused, scrutinizing the solemn face staring back at her.

"If I bluff, I fool myself as well," Inar whispered hoarsely, looking away from her and gazing into the domain of Chaos. "And Roger will be trapped there, too. Here, they will sentence Malvyn… and destroy the book that holds Lord Thom's secrets." A triumphant smile played across his lips. "They will hunt down the Guild and silence their myths and prophecies." The words left his lips like a chant. "They will erase the Gates and forbid the insanity the Guild brings." His eyes gleamed. "And you will have to find another one of those final hopes; for Roger will be trapped, for good. And _I _will be a thorn in your side for eternity." Deryne's eyes widened.

"_No!_" Inar turned; the burning determination in his grinning face faded, melting as he gazed at her thunderstruck face.

"She loves you," Uusoae observed. Deryne took a step towards Inar; _did _she love him? She wasn't sure… love was eternal, ever fixed on one person, wasn't it? She could not rid herself of the memory of her flinch away from him after he had conquered Roger. But she also remembered the day when he had sat with her in the library and made her promise to avoid killing even Shadows, if possible… all of those days in the library… and the practice courts… the ball….

But love or not, she didn't want him to die, or lock himself away in the cold realms of Uuasoae.

"Are you going to thrust _that _away just like you would this sacred inheritance you have won for yourself?" the goddess sang, voice sickly sweetly. Deryne wet her lips as Inar started in her direction, then changed his mind. His face was drawn, gaze weary as he watched her. Then he shook his head, and tears gathered in Deryne's eyes.

She ran towards him as the first tear fell, dripping down her cheek as a silent testimony, an unspoken plea. When she grabbed his hands, Inar did not pull away.

"Don't," she hissed in a low voice. "Numair will be here soon; we'll fixed it, all of it-" Inar smiled crookedly; Deryne's heart and mind raced, downwardly spiraling in a wild torrent of fear and panic.

"It'll never be fixed, Deryne," he whispered softly, interlocking their fingers and squeezing her cold hands gently. He raised his arm to press the back of his hand against her cheek, his palm against hers. The tenderness summoned a fresh wave of salty wetness to her eyes, to wash down her face, caress his skin. "Roger cannot be suppressed forever… it is to be a constant war between us, for the rest of my life." He cleared his throat, blue eyes locked on hers. "And he has taken precautionary measures- if they try to separate us, his spirit will enter another- and I will die." His gaze dropped. "In any case, you wouldn't be safe." His jaw set. "This is the only way to thwart him."

"No." Deryne shook her head. She leaned forwards to touch his forehead with hers. "It can't-" His laugh shook both of them.

"But it _can_," he whispered, rubbing his nose against hers, skimming her cheek with his. "It _is._ You're a smart girl, Deryne of Queenscove- you know it as well as I do."

"There has to be another way," she replied feebly, closing her eyes. Her _gudruna _curled around them, seeking an in to his closed mind. He chuckled as she futilely reached out with her magic, searching for a thought, a feeling- something, anything she could take hold of and never release. "I don't _understand_," she said, voice wavering.

"You will," he answered softly, kissing her eyelids softly. Her body shook as she turned her face upwards and met his lips with hers.

Then the cavern shuddered, and Inar was gone-

With a cry, Deryne opened her eyes to see him flying backwards, into the Wavewalker's statue. He yelled in pain as he slammed into the hard stone, then in surprise as the goddess's arms closed around him.

"Roger!" barked a familiar voice behind Deryne; she whipped around.

Three figures stood in the mouth of the cavern. Bloodied and bruised, Rikash strode in, his movements jerky, hand outstretched, preparing for his next blow. Behind him, Han had Malvyn's arms pinned behind his back as the young man dragged the mage inside the barrier Inar and Deryne had been unable to cross. Han's brow was furrowed in concentration as he watched the Wavewalker's image and her captive.

Deryne sensed Rikash release his next attack; the heat washed over her, past the Queen of Chaos, in its journey towards Inar.

She raised a hand; the air hardened in front of Inar, a natural shield laced with her magic, deflecting the assault.

"Deryne!" Rikash turned on her, eyes blazing. "_He _is the traitor! He kidnapped you and-"

"No!" Deryne exclaimed, relief consuming her fears. Malvyn captured, and the three of them could protect Inar- "No- he's Inar- Roger is gone, for now-"

"That's right," crooned Uusoae behind her, and the hairs of the back of Deryne's neck prickled. Rikash looked at the goddess; his eyes widened in alarm. "Protect my boy for me, Deryne…."

"Crone," he whispered. Then his features hardened. "Deryne, she's tricking you! Inar never existed-" Inar groaned.

"Ri-"

"Shut _up!_" Rikash snarled, whirling back around. Again, Deryne felt Rikash gather his power. Her arm shot out; Rikash shouted in pain as he crumpled to the ground. Shaking, Deryne stepped between Han and Inar. Malvyn smiled at her, a fierce grimace that mocked her as much as ever.

"Han," Deryne stated calmly, praying he was more rational. Rikash moaned on the floor before her. "_Trust _me- Inar's beaten Roger, for now, but _now _he thinks he needs to go into Uusoae's realm-" She pointed at the colorful fire and the goddess trapped inside. "-to defeat Roger and his little scheme." Han's gaze went from her pleading face to Inar's grim one.

"And Master Salmalin will be here soon?" Han asked. He walked towards Deryne, keeping a firm hold on Malvyn. They stopped in front of Rikash, who gingerly rose to his feet. He glared at Deryne, who stared back menacingly.

"I sent the Shadows away from them- there is nothing stopping him from coming now," Inar said darkly, scrutinizing those below him.

"Just hold him there until Numair gets here," Deryne begged with an uneasy glance at Uusoae, who waited with an uncanny air of patience. Han's eyes narrowed in thought. With one last look at Inar, he turned to Deryne and nodded. She sighed in relief.

Inar sighed, too.

"Deryne…," he said softly. She didn't turn to look.

"It's for your-"

"Sorry," he ended shortly. Then the Shadows were on her.

* * *

"Remarkable," Numair breathed, watching as the dark cloud of immortals pulled back, swooping back towards the caves. "Did Roger and Malvyn need reinforcements?"

"There's only one way to find out," Sarra said serenely as she appeared at his elbow. She exchanged a grin with him. "Forward and out!"

* * *

Deryne could hear Rikash's swears and feel the sudden flashes of heat around her as he fought off his own attackers; from the thundering crashes of rock slamming together, she could guess Han was occupied as well.

She had no time to think, no time to plan, but most of her spells hit their marks, dropping Shadow after Shadow after Shadow. Still they came, muffling her cries and curses, blinding her sight and buffeting her body firmly if gently, herding her away….

_This was Inar's plan. _

_The Shadows were a distraction, meant to stop them from keeping Inar safe, in the mortal realms. _

"NO!" she shrieked into the black masses; wind arrows flew from her fingertips, mercilessly tearing through the oblivion, wrenching her mind in agony. Her thoughts and _gudruna _spun in a sharp demand for attention that churned her stomach; a thousand knives seemed to slash through her head at once.

She thrust the lethal spell out once more; her heart almost stopped when one arrow nearly hit Rikash. She just barely managed to yank it away when the next wave of pain flashed through her mind, pinning a thousand more deaths into her fragile memory.

And then she was free of the Shadows; lunging out of the dark, putting space between them and her, she swung her head up; Inar was standing next to the fire of Chaos, face dark as he reached into the nightmare realms.

Uusoae clutched his hand with claws, her refusal to let go clear in her demonic eyes. He jerked this way and that, trying to get past her, careful never to pull his hand and her back into the cavern. Deryne stumbled towards her, her mind torn at by the _gudruna _she had forced through it moments before.

"Inar-" Either he entered Chaos, or he allowed its Queen into the mortal realms. Deryne trembled as she fought her muscles' reluctance to move, her hazy thoughts' plea for rest-

What was she supposed to do now?

"Inar." Weakly, she wrapped her fingers around his, clinging to the hand that was left to her. Sweat dripped down his face as he struggled with the goddess, striving to find an opening that would let him into her world.

Somehow, Queen and squire were equally matched; goddess and mortal battled for purchase, for passage into the other's world. Inar's breath was ragged; his body shuddered as Uusoae wrenched him to the side. He only managed to stay up because Deryne held him.

"Deryne," he managed through gritted teeth, his eyes locked with those of the goddess. "I'm so sorry." She smiled sadly; her face was dry.

"I understand," she lied, certain she never would. But she _did_ know what she had to do. It was too late for anything else now.

* * *

Numair led his party of mages through the passageway Rikash had taken, listening acutely as whispers echoed through the darkness.

He jumped when his speaking-spell crackled to life.

"I did it," Taraid reported, grim pride entering his voice. "I worked out the symbiosis spell and configured it. Roger's binding will broken in ten, nine-"

* * *

_**AN: Dun-dun-dun! What's next? What's Deryne about to do? What about Taraid- will he be too late to break it? (now, there's a catch 22...) Is Roger going to take control of Inar again? Will Chaos prevail?**_

Hmm... in order to find out, I'm going to need encouragement... in the form of reviews! :D


	43. Chapter 42: Nothing But Silence

_AN: The final chapter! One epilogue, and then I'm done!_

_Or maybe not even; maybe I'll end here and just leap into my next story... which is- I repeat- starring all YF and JG characters.... :D Thanks to everybody who has reviewed this for me- **Shang Leopard**, **BlackWidow12**, **Alliekat1996**, **dares to dream**, **SarshE7191**, **xxTunstall Chickxx**, **twilightm00n**, **Evilstrawberry**, **vicky**, and **sam** -without you, this never would have been finished! Yay for beta **KyrieofAccender**, especially for this last chapter. Sooner or later, I will probably come back and fix this... especially the little bits that make no sense, or are stupid, etc. etc. I hope you all check out the sequel... once I start it, that is.  
_

* * *

_Chapter 42_

_Nothing But Silence _

A moment should have been an eternity.

That was Deryne's frantic thought as she stood, wrapping her arms around Inar. But the seconds only raced by faster; it was impossible, _impossible_ for her to stop time, or even capture the moment…. Those last moments.

They should have been clearer. They should have been stronger.

But the strongest feeling she had was that the world was eluding her grasp, each moment and its fellows long gone by the time she tried to brand them in her memory. Her hands alighted on his shoulder as he struggled with Uusoae, her mouth by his ear as she whispered softly to him.

"I'm going to help you." She felt as though his face was already fading from her mind as he smiled faintly, embroiled in the combat before them. Even though she stared at him, her eyes drinking in the curve of his nose, the angle of his chin, he seemed as substantial as water; he was there as she looked, but the moment she finished, he would only be a vague comfort on the back of her throat.

Then she gasped, the dank air of the caves engulfing her lungs as _gudruna _whisked her conscious mind away from her surroundings.

_Inar. _The whispers- the sensations- that poured through her were his, the visions she saw his memories, his thoughts….

She saw herself, through his eyes; endearingly determined, stubbornly tough- Stunned, she shook her head as emotion swept her away…. A lost family, wary friends, kind knight master-

Inar closed his memories of Sir Clement to her.

_Not those, _he told her. _Not yet. _But he let her draw ever nearer, until his hands seemed hers: the wracking pain Uusoae forced through him became her own. There was no distinction between them, save her hesitation to give herself entirely over to him, even as he gave himself to her.

_How can you bear to do that? _she asked, guilt weighing down upon her. After Roger… how could he stand letting her in? He answered only by allowing her deeper, further….

Beneath his surface thoughts- the layers of his sanctuary- there was the taint of darkness.

_Roger, _she realized, and a jolt of fear shot through her.

Inar was right…. The fight between the two wills was so close…. She watched, in horror, as the dark roared in defiance, rearing to be struck down, again and again-

They were as locked in battle as Inar and Uusoae were in the mortal realms; neither could release the other, even if it was desired, to admit to the stalemate and free themselves of the snared knot.

Inar sucked in a harsh breath as Roger's memories began to flood towards the surface- a wand, a red-haired youth-

Deryne shoved those _gudruna _to the side just as Inar repulsed the thoughts. She buried her face in his shoulder. He trusted her with _everything_… and now he needed her to do the same.

_Ready? _he asked. She nodded, chin pressed into his shirt. Then she lowered any barrier to _gudruna _that remained in her mind, and surrendered herself to his memories.

_If I'm a fishwife, you're a damned harridan. _Rikash… charming as ever….

_Are you braver than your friend, Queenscove? _She did not see how she could be.

_No- nono- not Inar! Please, I'll do anything- Inar! _The girl's scream sent shudders through her body.

_Squire Stiff-face. Did the chamberlain give you a night off, heavens forbid? _She nearly cried at the sound of her light-hearted voice.

_You've lost, fool. _She cringed at Roger's triumph as he wrestled Inar's mind into submission, as he raised his fist and slammed it into her head….

_She made it sound like she thought that maybe someone won their allegiance accidentally- that he or she doesn't even know- _Inar had guessed at the truth then, where Deryne had told him what Ylanda has said. Not the bit about Roger… but the Shadows…. There was no other explanation, for what had happened in the Black Caverns…. He had _freed _the monsters that had killed his knightmaster, allowed Chaos back into the world-

_Sounds just like our type of work, eh, squire? _She felt a stab in her heart as Sir Clement's face appeared before her, winking. She felt Inar tense; Uusoae snarled.

_This is for him, _he told Deryne darkly. _This _cannot _happen again. _His rage, shame, and sorrow boiled inside her; mind reeling, she drowned within them, stricken breathless at the intimacy- here was everything, _all of him_- and he would not hide anything from her.

Then it began- his first journey into the caverns, Sir Clement by his side as they ascended the steps… towards the very same cave they stood inside now.

_Ferensfell! Out! Now! Just get out! Don't touch anything!_

And another voice… one Deryne had heard only moments before, spoken by a goddess of nightmares.

_Just a tap; don't even hold it. Curious, isn't it? It never need leave its place-_

The quake… the crystal… and the Shadows. They had been summoned.

And the mad race… back to the chasm, from whence they came…

And the fall…. Deryne gasped as Inar's knight master stumbled, toppled- and grabbed the edge of the staircase.

_Oh no. _Deryne's eyes snapped open; Inar could not look back at her- he was still glaring into the eyes of the Queen of Chaos.

_Yes. _Inar gave her the memory, ungrudging and calm, his undulating patience surfacing as her horror reached the depths of his own. Uusoae sang in her head relentlessly- this was past, there was no changing it now-

_You wait here…. Let it happen, Ferensfell. Let him fall…. you will wait here, boy…_

Then Inar's memory went dark. Deryne shook as she clung to him; he was protecting her even now, from that final terror. There was silence for a long moment… and then the goddess spoke once more.

_See, you did it…. _Her pleasure made bile rise in Deryne's throat. _You stood there and watched…_

_And you can do it again, now. _Chills raced down the girl's spine.

There were no secrets now.

"But I won't!" Inar hissed aloud, and the noise thundered through Deryne's ears- the vehement promise sent adrenaline through her veins. "This is _why_, why I need to do this! I let it happen once, but I will _never again_-" Deryne stared at his furious face, his icy eyes-

And understood.

"I have to let you go now," she whispered, and something inside her broke.

* * *

"_One._" Numair raced even faster down the dark passageway, his group of mages hard on his heels. He stopped as they slipped out of the passageway. "It's up to you now, Salmalin," Taraid's voice crackled before the speaking spell died. The black robe was not listening to his colleague.

"Goddess of all unfair and foul," Numair growled as he laid eyes on the canyon of caverns and passageways. Sarra closed her eyes, turning her head this way and that. Her nose shifted to that of a hound; she sniffed the air daintily, then pointed over to the right.

"That way," she said. "We're coming, Ri."

* * *

_Gudruna _raced through her, blasting through the clouds of Chaos within Inar. Something snapped, within him. Within Roger. And then there was light, cracks between them, as the two spirits recoiled from each other, no longer one.

Uusoae flinched, giving Inar and Deryne an escape. Out of Chaos, Inar fell into Deryne's arms; his weight pulled her down. She did not have the strength to remain standing, stricken by the sudden release in Inar's mind.

She watched numbly as a dark cloud seemed to rise out of Inar; it hovered, for a moment, side to side, as though searching.

Heart in throat, Deryne saw it pause, then shoot towards the three other mortals in the cave. Han saw it; eyes flashing, he raised his hand. The earth rose at his command, blocking the spirit, which went through the rock as though it were air, then headed for Rikash, who stood in front of the other two. Releasing Malvyn, Han dived at his friend, knocking them both out of Roger's path at the last moment.

Deryne could not watch what happened next; the Shadows descended on both her and a half-conscious Inar.

"Inar!" She hauled him out of the way as a snarling Shadow swept down upon them. A wind arrow sent it shrieking through the air before it faded.

"_I am still Queen!_" Uusoae screamed. "_They will not bow to you when they may answer the call of their mistress, Shadowmaster!_"

"Damn," Deryne muttered. She had been wondering about that. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the roaring flash of Rikash's magic; he was getting _tired. _

She hadn't thought it possible.

Spreading her fingers, Deryne let her magic flow through them, whipping around Inar to shield him before snatching the Shadows around them up in a net of breezes.

_Thank you, Master Salmalin, _she thought as soft words left her lips. She spoke aloud to her magic, to the winds that answered her summons; Rikash was not the only one tiring, and she could not be lazy and slip up here. They were so _close-_the worst was over-

She had not pulled away from Inar's mind yet; oddly enough, she did not want to- if he did not pull back, she would not, either.

He wasn't like Rikash, who had berated her for invading his mind _once- _Inar gave her everything.

She bit her lip as he blinked; would he be all right? His thoughts were muddled, confused after the break with the parasite that had lived with him for most of his life. Then she felt him smile at the sight of her, battling the Shadows above him, and she felt her lips twitch upwards in response.

She pulled the last group of Shadows away from Rikash, who was faltering. Han had rid himself of his own attackers. One last volley of wind arrows, and the immortals were vanquished. She glanced around; Uusoae was gone, and the entrance to the realm of Chaos was closing-

Incredulously, she looked down at Inar, who sat up with a smile. For a long moment, more images, more feelings, passed between them. When he took her extended hand in his, Deryne's awe increased a hundredfold as waves of emotion overtook them both, wrapping them in a blissful peace underneath its raging surface. There would be time, later, to talk; for now, she just wanted to _feel_, to bask in their wordless exchange for as long as she could.

Han's cry broke their reverie; Deryne whipped around, mind silenced and still, as her eyes saw the young man fall to the ground. From behind him, Malvyn took a step forward, grinning wildly.

"Chaos magic," she heard Roger's voice whisper through him. Then colored fire burst from his hands, shooting towards her.

Everything was happening too fast. Rikash shouted, reaching his hand out feebly to thrust a thin barrier up between her and the spell, which shattered his attempt.

She blinked.

_Yama's Festival. _

Her doom.

The colored flames blinded her, stole her sight, as her thoughts ended… she was finished, with thought, with _gudruna_, with magic.

Her eyes closed of their own accord; all that remained to her in that split-second moment was Inar's shock, his alarm as he watched his bane have the last say, after all-

_No, _she heard him think. _No._

She felt him step in front of her, his arms encircling her fragile body, his back to the spell hurtling towards them.

_Deryne- _Sound and light from his mind flashed over her; her sparring, talking, laughing- their link blossomed. shining brilliantly in Deryne's mind, although she only had a moment to savor it.

The spell broke over them; Inar groaned, softly.

And then there was darkness. And silence. Absolute silence. A nothingness that could only come in death.

Out of all the _gudruna _pouring through her mind, not one brought a single thought or feeling to her. Needlessly, they streamed through her mind; she had not the strength to bid them to stop, even as each returned nothing but empty silence to her world, twisting her heart mercilessly as they testified, again and again, to the worst truth she had ever suffered.

She was alone.

* * *

She wanted to scream. Scream until her throat ripped itself to pieces, until her chest collapsed on itself, until the stars of the heavens died.

Anything to fill the quiet.

She was on her knees, her hands resting on Inar's, his warm body still pressed against hers. She shivered, then let his arms drop away from her; she grabbed him before he could fall to the floor and lay his lifeless body down gently. Her arms shook as she stared into his eyes; gone were the thoughts that had raced between them, the fire behind his gaze. Her fists clenched as her gaze fell upon his smile, wry to the last. She pressed her lips together.

It was far from silent; the sounds of mage fire from Malvyn- Roger- and others, probably Numair Salmalin and the Crown mages, reached her ears from down the passageway. Roger had a long way to go if he was going to escape the Black Caverns.

But who knew if he would be captured? The duke had outwitted them all….

No, literal silence did not trouble her- it was the numbing solitude inside her mind. Unwillingly, her memory played Inar's final thoughts over and over again. Those would not have been so terrible… if it weren't for the oblivion that came after.

Shaking, she rose, forcing her stare from Inar.

Rikash and Han were standing, unmoving, their eyes fixed on her. Han bowed his head when she glanced at him; her eyes locked with Rikash's.

Her arms wrapped around her cold body, Deryne made the slow journey towards him, never blinking. Her old friend took several, halting steps before he stopped, waiting for her to cross the rest of the distance between them.

They did not speak for a long moment; Rikash's eyes flickered, losing some of their stoicism. Deryne's eyes glittered. Then, in a futile, hopeless blur of desperate motion, she punched him once. Twice. Over and over. He let her fists glance off his chest; she had no strength left for the blows to hurt. But she couldn't stop; she had to do something, _anything_, to break the silence, to connect with someone-

A sob escaped her as her knees buckled; she couldn't stand anymore, not alone. Words spilled from her lips, running in incoherent circles.

"-and I don't believe- how could he-and _you_-" Shaking uncontrollably, she stopped hitting Rikash and pulled her arms in tightly, trying futilely to shrink, to melt away into nothingness after Inar. Hesitantly, Rikash put a hand on her shoulder, keeping several inches between them.

"I'm an idiot," he offered feebly, voice rough. In the midst of her tears, she nodded.

"Yes-" she managed before a fresh wave of sobs burst over her. Throwing her arms around him, she put her head on his shoulder and cried, mind screaming for the one she had lost, just when she thought she had saved him.

* * *


	44. Epilogue

Thanks to everybody who has read and reviewed for Yama's Festival, and feel free to check out The Two Islands, which culminates the adventures of Deryne, Rikash, Han, Cyne, Cadel, Merle, Brand, and the others! To **imakeladrygirl**, **Alliekat1996**, **SarahE7191**, **vicky**, **xxTunstall Chickxx**, **Cinnamon**, **BlackWidow12**, **twilight's reflection**, **Shang Leopard**, **dares to dream**, and **Evilstrawberry**, thanks for the review and I hope to hear from you in my next story!

* * *

_Epilogue _

_February 19, 281 H.E. _

There was a merciless flatness in Deryne's crystalline eyes as her fingers moved, jerkily sketching the Gate in the ground; she scarcely knew how she could bear to lay eyes on one without spitting, let alone create her own.

This was not as all-powerful a bind as the one she had made in the Black City; she would have to come back, in the years to come, and renew the spell.

Perhaps she could convince Rikash to do it for her, and she could leave her own scars unopened.

As though he was any less reluctant than she was to meddle with a Gate.

He stood before her and Han now, blasting the remnants of the Shadow army of the Black Caverns with the flames that streamed from his hands, a fiend radiating dark and savage joy in the firelight that cast shadows across his figure. Every once in awhile, one demon would manage to slip through Rikash's spells, but Han would swiftly deter any attackers before they could fall upon Deryne. It was difficult to skirt an opponent for whom the very ground would rise.

Numair stood behind Rikash; she had no idea what he was thinking as he watched his son decimate the immortal hordes before them.

Only he, the black robe mage of Tortall, knew the extent of their powers- hers, and those of the two boys. The thought gave her the chills; what did he see them as? Potential, or a threat?

She would see them as the latter, if she was in his place.

A swirl there, a line here.

Numair had insisted they wait almost a month before returning to seal up the Vents; he had wanted them healed and rested beyond a shadow of a doubt before wreaking revenge. The small team closed one at a time, one a day, before retreating back to the main camp outside of the caves, protected by the same group who had accompanied Master Salmalin the first time.

Personally, Deryne viewed them as less than adequate; they _had _let Malvyn- Roger- escape…. And now, only the gods knew where he was, and what he was up to.

Perhaps she was wrong; maybe even Mithros didn't know- she would not be too surprised if it was true. Her fists clenched; she would hunt him down, if it meant summoning _gudruna _from Chaos itself.

_One job at a time, Queenscove. _The hairs on the back of her neck rose as her kestrel swept down into her line of vision. Han started, then recognized the bird and ignored him as Duskwing floated over the Gate and landed at her side. Her teeth gritted together.

"Decided to come out of hiding, then?" she muttered acidly as she added the finished strokes to her spell.

_You never would have listened before now, _the Chamber reasoned coldly. _Even still, you aren't ready. _

When she had first come back from her ordeal within the caves, she had screamed, even thrown several heavy objects in the kestrel's general direction. She had demanded for the Chamber's presence; she had wanted to rage at it more. All she had received was an icy glare from Duskwing.

"Then go back to where you came from_," _Deryne retorted, still speaking aloud. Resorting to thought- her magic- reminded her of the last exchange she had had, when she had _felt _Inar die. All of his thoughts, gone in the blink of an eye. She had been cut adrift; he had been ripped away, cast into the dark, leaving her to fully understand the loss- the emptiness.

_Chilling, isn't it? _the Chamber asked.

"Go away." She clenched her teeth together. "Leave me _alone._"

_Is this why you refused to use those "wind arrows" that Numair had been counting on? Why you aren't ripping those Shadows to shreds? _

"I promised him I wouldn't, unless I needed to," she hissed through grinded teeth; she didn't mean Numair. "And I don't, so I won't."

_I have not spoken to you in a long time, _It suddenly observed. Deryne could not decipher its tone- it was mocking, as usual, but she could not tell at whom the cynicism was directed. She nodded curtly, then closed off the Gate. It glowed over the Vent, an evanescent flicker, then solidified.

"Let's go!" she called out to the trio protecting her. Han hauled her up-sometimes, she could barely walk after these spells- and Duskwing took to the air as they slowly made their way towards their escape into the sunlight. Rikash snarled something under his breath; his concentration faltered, and a wave of Shadow burst over them. Numair and Han fended off the tide until Rikash recovered, his regained ferocity forcing their enemy back even further than before.

"Endless mobs of murderous immortals," Deryne muttered, not bothering an attempt to push back the multitudes. She was drained, magically at least. They would have to wait a few days for their next sojourn.

"They'll keep coming until we've closed off all the Vents," Numair replied evenly, sending a blast of Gift into their pursuers. "After that, we'll have to hunt out the last of them before we can declare the caves safe." Deryne snorted; safe? The Black Caverns? She should have Han collapse the whole tunnel system _now_.

"At least we know that the Gods' Cave's Vent isn't really a Vent- it needs a Shadowmaster to bring anything across from Chaos-"

"And he's dead," Deryne said bitterly. "Convenient for us, isn't it?" Han opened his mouth to say something, then lunged forward to intercept a Shadow's dive from above; his brown magic shot into the creature, tearing it to pieces. Deryne's jaw clenched; she shouldn't have said that- she hadn't meant to say it-

Somehow, she _knew _it was wrong to say, but she indulged selfishly in self-pity anyway. She made herself angry, and indignant, for feeling angry with herself. _I should be allowed to have some time to sulk- Rikash has been doing it since he was two- _

"Here they come again!" she heard Numair bellow; reinforcements for their enemy. Face stony, she watched as the darkness was consumed by flame, their shapes writhing futilely in their last moments, trying to escape the wave of magic.

Inar died by magical flame; Chaos magic wielded by the necromancer. Deryne remembered how the Shadows had curled around him, as though pleading for attention. For affection. Now the droves collapsed on top of them, teeth flashing in their mindless pursuit of blood.

Bile rose in her throat; why were they doing this? She pinched her bottom lip between her teeth. _Why? _Her eyes fixed on Rikash, the avenger, as he whirled about, smiting their adversaries with the wave of a hand. _How did this happen? _All she wanted was to go home and curl up in a ball- anywhere she could close her eyes and drift off into a dreamless sleep, away from all these thoughts. Trying to block out her mind, she glared at Rikash through narrowed eyes as he thrust fire this way and that, sweat dripping from his face, plastered with a wild grin._ Why can't we _stop_?_

In the midst of an attack, Rikash stiffened; Shadows poured around him as his magic faltered, his smile leaving him.

"Ri!" And Numair flung up a barrier that protected him and his son; it just fell short of the other two humans while the immortals streamed onwards. Deryne watched, open-mouthed as they took Han by surprise. She felt detached, like she was in a dream-

_Wind arrows_- Numbly, the girl raised her hand; it was time, she had to-

"_Damn it!_" A huge fireball sliced through the fray, knocking the Shadows off of Han's side; that was all the time the besieged youth needed to use his own magic; the earth around him hurtled upwards, smashing the monsters up and away from him.

The air burned; Deryne's skin crackled with the heat, drying as she flinched away, stumbling back.

Then Numair was by her side; her teacher grabbed her by the elbows, hauling her up as he peered into her face, brow furrowed.

"You're all right?" he said lowly. Deryne managed a nod before she looked over his shoulder, at Han. She could have watched his back for him, while he was watching hers; she _could _have slain the Shadows- it had been weakness, a failure on her part.

He stood behind them, with Rikash, who spoke softly but vehemently as he locked gazes with Deryne. Eyes narrowed, he took a step towards her, but Han put a hand on his shoulder, holding him back. But he could not contain the burning anger in Rikash's eyes. Numair glanced hastily over his shoulder, then frowned.

"Let's get you out of here," he said pleasantly, positioning himself to block her view of his son. "Ri! Keep watching out for us, all right?" His voice was friendly but firm; Deryne heard Rikash grumble an assent.

She had not seen the end of this.

* * *

She was making her way back to her tent when he found her.

"Han could have been killed!" he exploded, breaking the stillness. Deryne closed her eyes, exhausted; of course he had caught up to her _now_, after supper, when all she wanted to do was sleep. Concealing a sigh, she turned to face Rikash, standing several feet away, face red with fury. "You afraid to kill his little pets, or-" Fatigue burned away by his words, Deryne clenched her fists.

"I can't believe you would say-" Rikash exhaled loudly, his exasperated sigh enraging her.

"I _meant _Roger!" he hissed. "Malvyn! Not Inar!" His jaw flexed as he forced his voice down. "You should have known that." Deryne raised a hand to her head; she ran her fingers through her hair.

"We should talk in the morning; I can't think, right now," she said flatly, trying to stifle the soft plea in her voice. Rikash snorted.

"You don't need to _think_, and we need to get to the bottom of this; you want somebody to die because you aren't paying attention." Deryne did not answer him; she couldn't, for a long moment. Then she found her defense in attack.

"You mean _you _need to get to the bottom of it." He shrugged, his lanky form a mix of pale light from the moonlight on his hair and skin and dark shadow. He flexed a hand; Deryne flinched as flame roared to life in his palm. "Why?"

"You nearly caused the death of another friend of ours," he said, voice icily calm as he peered into her eyes. Deryne's eyes narrowed.

"_Another _one, hmm?" she queried harshly. Her heart sank; she felt like throwing up. "I'm glad you mince no words, Rikash Salmalin." He winced.

"No, Deryne, I-" He faltered as a bitter smile played across her lips.

"-didn't mean it that way?" She laughed. "Then it _must _be true, right?" She took a step closer. "Well, let me remind _you_, then- I would've stopped Malvyn that night, if you hadn't been so sure _you _could watch him- that he wasn't a threat- And _then _you decided to do a spell with him. One you _knew _he didn't want Inar or me knowing about." She glared into his pale face. "You even threatened me, as I recall." He grimaced.

"I told you-"

"-it was your fault?" she countered. "Maybe you _said _it, but it doesn't mean you _think _it. It was more along the lines of the child reciting lines- 'I was wrong to put the frog in Lady Dara's chambers- now don't punish me!' Do you _understand?_" Her voice softened, venom coating every syllable. "Inar is _dead_ because of us, and-" She stopped; she was _not _going to cry. She swallowed back a lump in her throat, recalling the stalemate the pair had had in the palace, when she had backed down and allowed Malvyn to escape. "I should have blasted you across the hall," she hissed, voice shaking and thick with unshed tears. "I should have cried the alarm and sent the Crown mages after the both of you- _I should have!_" The echo of her shout lingered in the woods, mocking her. Rikash's eyes were slits of rage.

"You _should have_," he hissed. "We should have! _I _should have! Why didn't you, then? This is a coward's lament- no, an excuse!"

"Back to this, are we?" A strangled laugh escaped her. "Have you learned _nothing_? Or are you too foolish to be taught? Too proud to listen?" She glared at him in disgust for another moment, then turned her back on him. "I need to-"

"We _aren't finished!_" She did not look back; a moment later, Rikash grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around. Stunned, she just stared at him for a moment; with her _gudruna _blocked out, she had not heard him coming. She tried to wriggle away, remembering Pirate's Swoop, but his grip only tightened. Face to face with the wild-eyed youth, she stared into his golden eyes.

"Get your hands off of me," she whispered, voice as frozen as the ice lands from which Frejonak hailed. "I don't see how you _dare_." His eyes widened. Then he leapt away hands flying out to the side, as though _he _had been burned. As if any fire could touch him. "I was a _coward_, as you put it, because I didn't want to hurt you." Her eyes narrowed. "And don't say I can't. I didn't want to hurt anybody, and I didn't want to lose whatever _scrap _of a friendship we had left." He was no longer looking at her; he retreated slowly, possibly unconsciously. Deryne took a step towards him. "And if _that _makes me weak, what does _your _friendship with Malvyn make you?"

"A traitor," Rikash spat out. Anger made his voice tremble with a vehement sincerity. "Or a fool. I couldn't tell you which is worse." Deryne stopped; she had not expected a reply. Quiet, or more accusations, she could have handled, but his self-condemnation silenced both of them for several long minutes.

"You weren't supposed to answer that," she finally said.

"You were too kind," he said lowly. "You _should _have blasted me into Galla. And I should have listened." The admission made Deryne even more upset.

"Damn _right_-"

"And I'd like to figure out what kind of scraps we've got left of that… friendship," he said, words unease and timid as they left his mouth. Deryne's mouth was dry.

"I'm afraid you've torched whatever I had managed to salvage," she drawled, falling back into a familiar sarcasm that was more biting than it had been before. Less teasing. More mocking. Rikash glared at her.

"You aren't making this easy," he accused. She raised an eyebrow; who did he think he was, to blame her for this?

"It shouldn't be." They watched each other warily for another moment. There were no animals, no birds, to break the stillness of the winter night. To shatter the awkwardness that was swiftly overtaking the anger between them. "To be honest, I don't know who in Chaos you are."

"I appreciate the honesty." Deryne smiled coldly; he was unused to humbling himself. He had forgotten how _she _had once dealt with him; she could tell by the tension in his frame, the swelling indignance that rose instinctively at her insults before he struggled to control it. He had ignored her comments, once. He had even admitted she was right with ease, not with this jilted, cautious surrender he tried to give her now.

"No. You don't." He shrugged, trying to hide his discomfort. He had always been terrible at hiding his emotions, and now Deryne could read feelings better than ever.

"All right. I don't." He waited for her to relent, to save him from his humiliation and confusion. She waited for him to rescue himself. "So where does that leave us?"

"Somewhere between near tolerance and the mage battle of the century." A smile ghosted his features before he realized she was not teasing him.

"I was… hoping for somewhere between you blasting me to Galla… and a truce." She raised an eyebrow; wasn't _she _supposed to be the optimistic one? "If I'm not causing trouble- or reacting- I guess that that's the worst that can happen," he elaborated.

"You think you can manage that?" she asked dubiously. He hesitated, wavering as he met her gaze. Then his jaw set, and he nodded.

"It's worth it," he said as way of an explanation.

"I'm not making this easy," Deryne stated. He smiled; a half-laugh, half-sigh escaped him.

"I _know _you aren't- but I promise to act calm and rational when we're talking." Deryne snorted. "Deryne, I _am _sorry," he continued hastily, before she could add a snide remark. "And I know that my apologies aren't going to make everything perfect again-"

"Like they ever were," she muttered.

"But if we're going to be working together, for the rest of our lives-"

"What a barrel of laughs- did Irnai tell you that? Because that last prediction still hasn't come true. I'm not dead yet-" Rikash waited for her to trail off before he continued.

"Da told me," he answered simply. "And he said it would be stupid to pick fights, especially when there's that whole problem with the resurrected necromancer and some cryptic destiny for the four of us-"

"I wouldn't worry about the destiny," Deryne cut in dryly. "Knowing my luck, it's tied in with my death on Yama's Festival-" Rikash frowned.

"Irnai never actually _said _that-" She shrugged.

"She said 'your mortal life disappears before your eyes' and if I fall, 'we are lost!' That doesn't count as a prophecy of death and doom?" Rikash looked away.

"Maybe. But maybe not for a long time. Doesn't everybody's life disappear before their eyes? Everybody watches life end. All it means is you aren't going to be blind when you die." Deryne stared at the young man for a moment. She blinked. Then a short laugh burst from her, overcoming all attempts to be suppressed. Tears came to her eyes; she shook her head as her mirth reduced her to a stream of chuckles.

"Always the literalist, then?" There. There was her foothold; some things never changed. Rikash shrugged.

"If it'll keep you from killing me, then yes." She shook her head.

"Don't think it'll save you every time," she warned, feeling herself settling back in a comfortable rhythm.

No, she couldn't do that; she couldn't let herself be fooled. They _were _different, now; they had left that old childhood camaraderie behind at Pirate's Swoop.

They would be friends again, but she wouldn't let things go back to the way they were; disaster lay that way. There was a long, tricky slog ahead of them, and she wasn't certain where it would lead.

But she knew, as Rikash nodded formally and turned away, she couldn't look back. There had been _could have_s and _should have_s and _would have_s, but what was the point? She _hadn't_. Now she would have to piece together what she had, and use what she had.

Which included her magic. She could not avoid it forever.

Taking a deep breath, Deryne leaned against a tree and closed her eyes. Her magic bubbled to the surface, _gudruna _poured into her mind as she submerged herself, diving into the murky waves of knowledge.

There was a hiss on the wind, sensuous whispers crying out from times and places she could not recognize before they swept on in their merry torrent, drawing her in further still to hear the pulse of the _gudruna_, a beat composed of a thousand symphonies that crescendoed as she let herself go, giving in to a sound that washed her fears away and carried her off into the brilliant night sky, to listen to the whispers of the stars themselves.

* * *

_**AN: Of COURSE I'm not finished- I have finished a year of character development and experiments in Tortall- and now have one, last story to tell! See The Two Islands for more.**_

_**AND PLEASE REVIEW! This is your last chance to tell me what you think of Yama's Festival! :D  
**_


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